


Daffodil & Thorn

by daisyswann



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Angst, Angst and Humor, Betrayal, Dark Past, F/F, F/M, Fashion & Couture, Friends to Lovers, Hate to Love, Heartbreak, Love/Hate, Misunderstandings, Model, Modeling, Multi, POV First Person, Polyamory, Possible Love Triangle, Pride and Prejudice References, Recreational Drug Use, Rivalry, Rivals to Lovers, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27776134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyswann/pseuds/daisyswann
Summary: Jude Duarte wants to be a poet. She lives for charming words and hidden truths. But under the strict eyes of Madoc and Oriana, Jude must look for a "real" job worthy of respect. She has a job interview and she only has one shot to pull it off. But then she lets thoughts of Cardan Greenbriar, the darling model of Elfhame, consume her and poke holes in her professional facade.In a series of events, Jude receives a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: To actually write poetry. But there's a catch. Cardan needs a personal shopper, and if Jude does her job right, she may get a deal with one of the publishing agencies, Nightfell Agency. She almost takes it if not for Cardan Greenbriar, the one person who seems to hinder her dreams for an unclear reason. It's hate at first sight but the two must set aside their differences to achieve their goals.For Jude, she can finally become a poet.For Cardan, he can finally be declared the World's Model.But the path to their goals might not be so easy.
Relationships: Cardan Greenbriar/Nicasia, Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar, Jude Duarte/Locke, Locke/Nicasia (The Folk of the Air)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 70





	1. Bad Luck or Fate?

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first AU/first time writing fan fiction. I guess I wrote some back then but I can't remember. I love Holly Black's Folk of the Air trilogy, and all the characters except the obvious ones. Please enjoy. I might update every week considering I like where this story is going. :)

I, Jude Duarte, will get this job at Magnolia Company. It's my only chance to prove to Madoc and Oriana, my estranged parents, that I am just as capable of swinging a pen as I am getting a "normal, boring, real" job. 

The day is sunny with a chance of fluffy white clouds, which is usual here in Los Angeles. Downstairs, I hear my older sister, Vivienne or Vivi, as I like to call her, arguing with my twin sister, Taryn, about the latest trend in fashion. 

Someone knocks on my bedroom door, and I turn to see my young brother, Oak, opening it carefully. He notices my gaze and throws open the door with the biggest smile to light up my day.

His brown hair is tousled with sleep, his light brown eyes bright with excitement for me. In his wrinkled Marvel pajamas, he jumps over to me with a toothy grin. 

"Jude, Jude, Jude, today is the day!" he shrieks, throwing his soft, thin arms around my waist. "Are you nervous?"

I laugh and wrap my arms around his small frame. He smells of Play-doh and honeyed waffles.

"A little nervous," I admit. "But more excited."

He releases me and steps back. "I have something to give you. A lucky charm. Here." Procuring something from his pocket, he hands me an acorn bauble. It's small but under the morning light, it shines. "There's something inside."

"Is there?" I hold the acorn with my fingertips and its hat pops off and falls to the floor. Oak swoops it up before it rolls off. I shake the acorn and a photo slides out. Or rather a small drawing of our family. Smiley faces and sticks bodies with an arcing message on top: "Good luck!"

"I love it," I say and ruffle his hair. He complains but I know he enjoys it. "Thank you, Oak-boo. I'll hold onto it when I'm next."

"Jude, we're going to be late!" Taryn calls, impatience leaking into her tone. "And you haven't eaten anything yet!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!" I shout. I take one last look at my attire: gray pants and blazer of a white buttoned shirt. It's so unusual from my usual style, which is a mix of t-shirts and cropped tops and ripped jeans and shorts. 

My walnut-colored hair is tied in a lazy ponytail. I figure it's the safest hairdo to wear for a job interview. Only minimal makeup of pinks and reds on today, but I wear those colors all the time. 

"Jude!"

"I'm coming!" I bend down to my knee and kiss Oak's forehead. He gives me the top and reminds me to screw it shut. "I need to go now. See you soon."

"Good luck!"

Grabbing my tote bag of printed hummingbirds, I leave out of my room and run down the stairs. Already, my heart is beating fast and it's not because I ran.

Oriana, pretty with soft white hair and the lightest of brown eyes, spots me first and frowns. "If you knew you had a job interview, why didn't you go to sleep early? I could hear you typing on your noisy typewriter all night."

"I'm sorry, but writing on that thing comforts me. I like the sounds."

She sighs and steps in front of me. "I'm only nervous about you. Good luck, my child."

"Thank you. Where's Father?"

She gestures to the living room where he's sipping a cup of lavender-infused tea. He seems to sense my stare and he turns around.

"Oh. Jude. Good morning." He moves around the couch and enters the kitchen. He's tall and fit like a military man. He used to be in the military, served as a General, but now he's doing undercover work. That's all he tells us. He also tells us that it is to keep us safe.

His intimidating dark eyes of brutality causes me to stand extra straight, practically on my toes. I can't seem to shake off the feeling that I must not falter in his presence.

"Good luck, Jude. I believe you can do this. And I hope we hear good news later this evening. I must go now." He steps out of my way and kisses Oriana on the cheek goodbye.

When she turns to me, she crosses her arms. "Your sister is waiting in the car." She doesn't need to say who. "Vivienne left with Heather."

I nod and take a deep breath. "All right, then I'm leaving now. See you later." And with good news. 

The air outside is crisp and fresh, the sunlight towering over the palm trees. The cool air sends me shivering and running into Taryn's car. Out of everyone in the family, except Oak obviously, I'm the only one who can't drive. 

After my accident that I still can't go into detail, I am terrified of glass and if a car crashes with all its glass bits flying in the air, I won't be able to stop screaming. 

Taryn plays her electronic pop music, and she moves her shoulders to the beat. At least she's calm. She turns to me, her eyes the color of walnuts looking up and down at my clothes. Her auburn hair is cut to her shoulders, wavy and bouncy. 

"This is the most common I've seen you," she says, then turns on the engine. "You're ready?"

I nod. "Yup! Let's go do this thing."

We coast out of the driveway and head for the freeway, which is crowded as always. Taryn rolls down her window and sings along to the lyrics. She's a video editor at a startup company. She's always been interested in editing. Back when we were younger, she used to create fan videos of her favorite ships. So lucky her, she knew exactly what she wanted to do.

Except for me. After I graduated from the University of Southern California, a ten-minute drive from our home, I spent my first few weeks writing poetry. I wanted to be a freelance poet but I don't think I'm very good. I'm good at photoshop, and that is my saving grace. The company I'm being interviewed at is looking for a candidate with good communication skills, editing skills, and writing skills. I am at least qualified. I hope I'm at least better than the rest of the applicants. 

Vivi, on the other hand, is the most talented and bravest out of us. She dropped out of college because she thought it was a waste of money. Now, she started a small studio to teach children how to draw with her girlfriend, Heather. I have no talent for drawing or teaching, which is a shame. Vivi would've hired me.

Taryn punches the center of the steering wheel and curses. "Ugh, I'm going to be late." She glances at me, a slight frown on her face. "Where is it again?"

"It's near Koreatown," I say. "You know, near that bakery you like."

"Yeah, yeah." She sighs and presses the gas to change lanes. My heart goes up to my throat, my fear of glass intensifying. "I'm so sorry, Jude, but I'm going to have to drop you off nearby. I'm late as it is."

"Really?" 

"Yes! There are bikes you can rent." She drives up the exit and turns left. "You have money, right?"

I nod, reaching into my tote bag. "Um, yeah, I do. But it's not a lot."

"I'll Venmo you some, but …" She coasts to a stop in front of a row of bicycles. The locks click open. "I'm sorry, Jude." She blushes and pats my shoulder. "Good luck with your interview today. I'm happy for you."

I get out of the car and turn back. "Okay, thanks. Now hurry or you'll be late." I shut her door and she waves goodbye and drives off.

I take out my phone and walk over to one of the bicycles. Most of them are covered in morning dew. But I'm desperate and I'm almost out of time. I scan a bike, pay for it, wipe the seat with a tissue, and ride off toward my destination. 

Will I get in trouble not wearing a helmet? Hopefully not. The sounds of horns and cars rushing down the streets frazzle me. It's too much. I'm scared I'm going to end up crashing. 

At a stoplight, I let my eyes wander to the screens up on the buildings. Movie trailers, ads for concerts, and finally ads for the latest cover of the most prestigious fashion magazine out there: Elfhame. 

And on the front cover the most desirable model out there: Cardan Greenbriar. Others have nicknamed him "Flower Prince of Elfhame" for his fondness of pretty things or "Cruel Prince" for his cruel beauty and intimidating presence. I have read articles about how all the major designers are itching to style him and have him at their shows. 

Everyone loves him and falls for his beauty. But I am not easily swayed. All I see in those dark eyes of his is vanity. Full of entitlement and pride.

The light turns green and I ride off to my next stop. I have at least fifteen minutes left until my interview, and Madoc always made it a point to make a good impression by being there early.

The wind blows my hair back and loosens my ponytail. I can feel my hair widening and my scrunchie sliding down. Lifting one hand, I snatch the scrunchie and slide it down my hand. My hair sways back and forth, disheveling it and I'm confident it's going to look like a nest. 

And I'm right. I click the bicycle to its drop-off port, and I catch my appearance in the reflection of a parked car's window. My long auburn hair is fluffed up, the strands going in different directions. With my fingers, I fix my hair the best I found before rushing down the street and walking up the steps to the building of the Magnolia Company. 

In my peripheral vision, I notice a small bakery cart waiting in front. My stomach growls at the sweet smell of marmalade and fresh bread. I go and wait in line, I still have a good six minutes left although I'm starting to worry. Why couldn't have Taryn dropped me off?

I pay with the only cash I have on me and run with a muffin in hand inside. The room smells of expensive perfume, coffee, and cigarettes. Along with the fume of intimidation. 

I stop in front of the scanning mechanism and pull out my temporary ID to pass through. Four minutes now. The machine recognizes my ID and lets me pass. In the elevator to the twentieth floor, I stress eat my muffin. 

More people file in, which only makes me gobble the rest of the muffin. A few crumbs stick to my mouth and front. I pull out my small mirror and I almost drop it. I have almost forgotten that I had red lipstick on. It's practically all over my chin and teeth. 

I only have two minutes to fix this. Luckily I've brought one makeup wipe for emergencies, and I begin to suck in my teeth and wipe mercilessly at my chin. The elevator dings and arrives at my floor.

"Excuse me, sorry, pardon me," I say as I politely shove through. I throw my muffin wrap into the nearest trash, along with my makeup wipe. One minute. Fuck. I cursed and I have been trying to remain calm.

Through the glass walls, I see the rest of the applicants sitting down waiting for their turn to woo their possible employers. I enter the room and find an empty seat. As soon as I sit down, a woman in a white blouse and black pencil skirt walks out of a room with a clipboard.

"A Miss Jude Duarte?"

Fuck, that's me. I stand up, hoping I look decent. I didn't have the time to look at my appearance again. The woman narrows her eyes at me.

"Follow me."

I gulp nervously and avoid the stares at my face around me. The woman leads me through a narrow, polished hall until she knocks on a door and opens it.

"Applicant Jude Duarte."

She pushes the door wider and gestures for me to enter. I walk in, praying for once I don't have red lipstick on my chin. Around the round table sits four interviewees. Their expressions are neutral, which calms me. I'm clean. 

I smile and outstretch my hand to shake theirs. _A tight grip is everything_ , Madoc says, _a tight grips will tell that you are confident_. So, I squeeze every single one of them and sit down. 

"Hello, good morning," I say, placing my tote bag on my lap and folding my hands on the table. Although I must make sure not to squeeze my hands pale and not show that I'm nervous. 

"Good morning," says the first corporate man. "I am Mr. Scott and I, along with my three colleagues, will be conducting this interview. For starters, tell us a bit about yourself and if you have a resume, now is the time to hand it to us."

I nod and look through my tote bag for the copies of my resume. But I can't find _copies_ . I find _one_ copy. Crap. I've forgotten to print more. I told myself that I would print them first thing in the morning.

I am screaming right now in my head. Today, I woke up confident but now I feel sluggish, and it's only the beginning of this interview. I look up sheepishly and smile.

"I have only a copy of my resume. I deeply apologize." 

I slide it across the table and place it in the center. Mr. Scott squints at it once before nodding his head for me to continue. 

"My name is Jude Duarte. I graduated from USC a year ago with a Bachelor of Arts degree in graphics and creative writing. I interned in two separate companies where I helped start a poetry column, organize folders, and edit a few photos."

"May we see samples?" Mr. Scott asks.

"You may." I take out my folder and give them different photos that I have edited. Granted, they're only photos of flowers and trees but they're nice.

"All right, Miss Jude. Tell us why you think you'll be a great fit for our company."

I go over the basic responses in my head. "I think I would bring in a lot of what I learned in the last few years. I believe I have great ideas that could help the company move forward. Like …" And my mind goes blank. I have no clue what I could do. It's just editing. "I could suggest different styles and approaches as I have a much fresher perspective on things."

Mr. Scott nods and turns to his colleague on his left. A woman who is just as intimidating as him. 

"Why do you want to work here?" she asks.

So I can get paid. Duh. But that's not a good answer. It's honest but not appropriate.

"I read your mission, and my beliefs aligned perfectly. I want to create better opportunities for those who are misrepresented. Editing tells a story, there's a message, and I hope with possible projects I can inspire people." 

All lies but they sound good to me. Except I do want to create opportunities for misrepresented people, but I don't think this is the way.

The third person clears his throat. "What are your strengths?"

I fight the urge to reply with a Michael Scott response—"I work too hard, I care too much, and sometimes I can be too invested in my job." 

"I'm determined," I say. "I would start on a project and I would finish it. I hate leaving things unfinished. I follow orders and fix my mistakes when told."

The fourth one clears her throat. "Your weaknesses?"

My cheeks flush. "I can get distracted or passionate about something that I might have trouble letting go of."

Mr. Scott nods. "Thank you, Miss Jude. Are there any questions you might have for us?"

"Um, where does your company stand on waste management?"

Mr. Scott tilts his head, glancing at the others. "Well, we adapt to the best options out there. We strive for ways to conserve energy and limit our carbon footprint."

"How did you handle the Dryden Crisis? Many people were out of jobs because of the strikes, and many asked that companies like yours would hear their demands and treat them as valuable employees."

"That is a very good question. Well, we always want to hear concerns from our employees. We want to hold their best interests at hand. The Dryden Crisis helped us refine our policies to preserve an enjoyable experience. Any more?"

I shake my head. "That's all." I should ask more but I don't know what else. Outside of the window, an ad pops up on the side of an adjacent building. The face of Elfhame. 

Mr. Scott notices me staring at the ad. "Brilliant advertisement, don't you think?"

I curl my upper lip. "It's a bit much," I admit. "Too much focus on the overrated model and not enough focus on the clothes. It's all flashy."

When I turn back to Mr. Scott and the others, they're all gaping at me. Was I a bit too honest? They asked me for my opinion, though, so why am I getting the feeling that I said something scandalous?

Mr. Scott frowns. "I don't know if you are aware of this, Miss Jude, but our hardworking employees created that ad for Elfhame. We have a tight relationship with the heads at Elfhame, and Cardan Greenbriar has brought us a flux of recognition toward our efforts. But I see now that you excuse the work we put in and insult our connection to Elfhame. I have to respectfully decline your application."

My mouth hangs open. "What? You … I didn't get the job?"

Mr. Scott shakes his and crosses his arms. "You're excused, Miss Jude, as our visions do not match. Sherry, bring in the next applicant."

I pick myself out of the chair carefully, still confused. It has to be a joke but none of them look in my way. The ad appears again, and I frown.

His face comes up with a sly smile. As if he's laughing at me. Laughing at me because … because of _him_ , I lost a job offer! The next applicant enters, and I am ushered out of the room seething with defeat.

❁❁❁

It's the afternoon now and I haven't mustered up the courage to return home. What am I going to say to Madoc, my ever domineering father, and Oriana, my ever meticulous mother?

I brood over a cup of vanilla tea at a small cafe. The sun is warm but the wind is chilly. But I care not. I'm too busy trying not to panic. I reach into my pocket and pull out Oak's lucky charm. My eyes prickle with tears.

"Sorry, Oak. I messed up."

The waitress comes by with my check. It's eight dollars. I put away the small acorn and take out my wallet. As if the stars haven't cursed me enough today, I don't have any money. I distinctly remember that I used the last of it to buy a muffin this morning.

What am I going to do? Both my credit and debit cards expired. I have forgotten to request new ones. I pull out my phone and check to see if Taryn has sent me money as she promised. She didn't, and I don't want to call her so she can eventually ask me how the job interview went. 

The waitress comes along again and waits by my table. I stand up slowly with a pleading look on my face. My phone rings a tune, signifying that it's at low battery.

"Miss, I'm so sorry. I have no cash on me but I can come back and—"

The waitress frowns and interrupts. "So, you came here and ordered something and expected ... what, for me to let you go?"

"It must've slipped my mind," I say. "Promise. I'll come back. Here." I take out Oak's acorn. "This is precious to me but I'll leave this with you and I'll come back to pay."

She snatches the acorn and, to my surprise, throws it into the street. It rolls to the crack of the sidewalk. I turn my head around, shocked, and that was the last straw. I didn't know I had a straw left. 

"All right, I'm leaving," I say, walking past her. "All that for eight dollars."

"No," she yanks my arm back, "you will not, you thief."

I glare at her hand around my elbow. "Let me go. I'm not paying after you threw my young brother's gift."

"It's rubbish. A worthless item."

"Let me go or I will pound on you."

"I'm calling security." She tightens her grip, digging her sharp nails into my skin. "Security!"

"Let go!" People turn and stare at us. "I said let go!" I shove her arm back and drop my tote bag.

Her hands yank at my hair, and we scream, holding each other closely. Sharp pain causes me to clench my teeth. We crash to my table and my cup falls off the table and shatters. 

The security guard rushes to separate us but we're not letting go. I kick her legs, trying to force her hands out of my hair. The security guard runs off and returns with more help. 

Then strong arms wrap around my waist while another security guard pries the waitress off me. We're both screaming obscenities now, and I am not ashamed. 

"All this for eight dollars? You're out of your mind!" I scream as she's taken away. I gather my hands to the arms around me. "Let me go, you!"

"Sorry." He lets go and he picks up my tote bag. "Is this yours?"

I yank it out of his hand. "Yes," I grumble.

"What's the problem here?"

"I couldn't pay for my tea. I told her that I would come back but she suddenly got defensive."

"Oh. You need help paying? I could do it. It's only eight dollars."

"And why would you do that?" I look up at him and my eyes widen. 

Standing in front of me, a young man with red russet color hair and tawny brown eyes stare down at me. He smiles at my stunned reaction, and I miss the sweeping motion of him leaving eight dollars on the table behind me. Plus five dollars for the broken cup.

I look away from him, beating myself up for getting swayed by his charming looks. But I take a second look anyway and the way he looks reminds me of a fox with the way his jaw is sharp, making his chin a bit pointed. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.

“Most people would have said ‘thank you’ by now,” he says, smiling still. His eyes flash with some kind of excitement as if he can’t think of an idea why I haven’t thanked him. 

“It seemed to me you wanted to be thanked, so you decided to pay for my drink.” I sigh and walk out of the outdoor dining section and walk over to a bicycle stop. Footsteps speed behind me.

I take out my phone and see that it’s dead. “You have to be kidding me,” I mumble. “Great.” I close my eyes briefly to keep from screaming. But it’s hard not to. 

“Bad day?” the same young man says.

I put a hand to my face. “What do you want? Enjoying this so far? Just leave. I can’t handle things right now.” But he stays where he is, a foot away from me. I drop my arm and turn to him. “I have no money and my phone died.”

He smirks. “Yes, your tea situation said enough about your money problems.” He steps closer and I give him a look. “I am trying to keep up the habit of doing one nice thing every day. You seemed to be having a hell of a bad day. Let me help you once more.”

“You’re kidding,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “And why would you do that?”

“To see what happens next. Will you thank me or rebuke me?” He grins, showing off his pearly whites. “You seem to be the rebuke type. I didn’t expect that.”

I scoff. “If I was having a nicer day, I might have thanked you.” I sigh and calm the flame smoldering in my heart. “I’m sorry.” His eyes widened with surprise. “You’re just trying to help me and I’m pushing you away. But there’s nothing you can do.”

“Well, there’s one thing I can do: help you go home. I can call an Uber for you.”

I shake my head. “No, no, thank you, but no. I don’t give out my address to strangers. If you only knew who my father was, you wouldn’t have even offered. I’ll find a way. I just need to find a charging port.”

“Come to my apartment then.” Now it’s my turn for my eyes to widen with surprise. “You can charge your phone there. I live around here. We can walk.”

My cheeks blush. “If you knew my father, you would not have offered that either. But it is getting late and he would not want me to be late. I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Yeah?” He’s practically beaming with excitement. “Okay, well, it’s around the corner. I’m Locke Fowler.”

I raise a hand to shake his. “Jude Duarte. Nice to meet you.”

We walk down the street surrounded by towering trees. Some squirrels scurry across power lines and jump over to branches, chasing tails and looking for acorns. _Acorn_. My heart sinks. I lost Oak’s gift. The one gift I promised I would hold onto. 

“What’s on your mind?” Locke asks, glancing at my face.

“This day,” I say. “I had a job interview today and I blew it up. My parents have been hacking my brain for the past year to get a ‘real’ job. I was called in for an interview and it was my only chance to prove to my parents that I can be like everyone else. Now, I have no cash and no future.”

“There’s always another day, right?” 

“If I can survive today, that is.”

Locke does live around the corner. In two blocks, we stop in front of an apartment with the digits 10414. It’s about eight stories high, the exterior surprisingly clean and strong. We walk through the front gate, the smell of fresh laundry from the hall consumes me. Along with the smell of someplace new. 

We reach the seventh floor, quiet and no one in sight. Only our footfalls fill the wide and polished hall. We pause in front of the second to the last door at the end and Locke takes out his keys and unlocks the door to his apartment.

What did I expect to see in a guy’s apartment? Bean bags, gamer chairs, sofas with cup holders, and an endless collection of DVDs and movie posters. But that is not what I see. Along the walls are painted portraits of famous artists and painted flowers. Green plants are in every corner, the black leathered couch clean with a glass table in front of it. An actual fireplace and a full TV over the mantle decked with photo frames.

I walk in and Locke closes the door. “There’s an outlet by the balcony.” 

The wooden paneled floors are free of dust, though there are some scratches. Underneath the small table holding a record player and few records lies an outlet. I plug in my charger and connect my phone until a green bar pops up on the screen. I turn to Locke, who watches me by the couch, and smile.

“Thank you.” I stand up and look up at all the painted flowers. “They’re beautiful. Where did you buy them?”

Locke chuckles and meets at my side. “My roommate painted them. He’s inspired by Eugène Petit and Arthur Rackham.”

“You like collecting records?” I ask, gazing at the opened record player and the needle sticking out. 

Locke blushes for the first time and shakes his head. “My roommate likes to. I like reading stories.” I turn to him, and he smiles. “Poetry mostly.”

“I love poetry,” I say. “I would do it for a living if I could.”

Locke opens his mouth, but just as he’s about to say something, someone unlocks the front door. 

Out of everyone who could have entered, I would not have picked Cardan Greenbriar as Locke’s roommate.


	2. Hell

I blink more times than I can count on my hands. But no matter how many times I blink, Cardan Greenbriar doesn't disappear.

He isn't a figment of my imagination. As if my imagination can come up with someone so beautiful that he looks unreal. Like someone from a fairytale.

He steps in clothed in all black—a leather jacket with chains, ripped jeans, and worn-out Converse shoes. His hair is even darker than anything he's wearing. His midnight hair is lustrous and curly, his eyes sharp but holding some kind of sadness.

He doesn't see me right away but when he does, he freezes and frowns. The sadness that I thought I saw gone.

"We're not accepting any more applicants. I thought I made that clear," he says, shooting a glare at Locke. He moves across the room over to a table decked with tiny objects that seem worthless.

Locke laughs and shakes his head. "You're mistaken," he says. "I'm only letting her recharge her phone so she can go home. But—"

Cardan turns around and leans against the table. "But what?"

Locke glances at me with a smirk. "Right before you entered, Cardan, I had an idea." He turns to me, and I look at him with doe eyes. What's happening? "Jude, I have an excellent relationship with one of the publishing agencies. Have you heard of Nightfell Agency?"

My eyes widen in size, and I almost choke on my spit. "Y-yes, I have."

"If you have any poems, I would like to read them. I can send some of them if I like them."

"But, aren't you done with your one-nice-thing-a-day practice for today? I think I need to think about this. It's happening so fast, I almost don't know what to do."

Locke quirks a brow. "You need to think about whether or not you want to achieve your dream?"

I shake my head. "No, no that's not it at all."

Cardan clears his throat, and we turn to him. "Locke, you forget yourself," he says and joins us across the room. He stands in front of me, where I see a golden ring around his pupils and the long length of his eyelashes. "I am the one who has that special relationship with Nightfell Agency. Not him."

"Okay, well, I didn't know that," I say.

"And I will not offer what he has offered. You're nobody to us. And you're right, Locke has done his nice things for today. Now leave."

I am stunned by his bluntness and rudeness that I do something that shocks even the both of us.

"No," I say, and he blinks dumbfounded by my response, and I smile. "Locke invited me. I'll leave when he decides to walk me out."

"This is my apartment."

"You're Cardan Greenbriar, the face of Elfhame. Aren't you supposed to live in West Hollywood or Beverly Hills or something?"

He snarls. "It's a bit crowded."

"Oh, you mean right now? Go outside for a few minutes."

Locke comes in between us and chuckles nervously. "Fine, I cannot offer it. But Cardan" — He turns to him — "you need help. You can't deny that you need a personal shopper. The last one you fired was weeks ago, and tabloids are starting to speculate that you are—"

"Don't even say it," Cardan growls, his pale skin blushing a nice pink. "It's ridiculous that they even started to speculate _that_."

Locke nods. "Exactly. And Jude here is available. Offer her the job, then maybe you can offer what I cannot."

Cardan scoffs, tilting his head a bit. "How am I supposed to be convinced that she even knows what's fashionable these days? Look at her clothes."

I lift my chin and cross my arms. "You talk like I'm not here. And I know all about fashion. It's a nightly discussion I have every day with my friends." That's a lie. I can care less what's in or out. Vivi and Taryn are the ones that care a bit more.

"Fashion Week is almost upon us. I bet you're desperate."

"Oh yeah? Desperate about what?"

"To stay relevant."

For a tiny second, the spiteful look in his eyes falls and reveals fear. But it lasts such a short amount of time that I can pretend that I missed it.

"I will not repeat this: Leave."

I frown. "Fine." I lean down and unplug my charger and shove my phone and charger inside my tote bag. "I will. I hate to be in the same room as you. And fun fact: you were the reason my job interview today went to shit."

I storm out of the apartment before I can see his reaction. Maybe I shouldn't have said it. We only met. I don't know anything about him. But it's true nonetheless. I lost a job interview because of him. And he is once again denying my dream offer.

We don't know each other. I know that but this heavy and tight sensation in my chest keeps coiling around my thoughts. I hate him. Above reason, I hate him.

I'm groveling down the street when I hear Locke calling after me. He jumps in front of me but I move around him, clutching onto my tote bag.

"Jude, wait," Locke says.

"No, I need to go home," I say, the wind blowing my hair back. "My parents are going to be worried sick if I don't return soon. And I might as well get the bad news over with."

"You left too soon. Wait." He grabs my arm and I stop and turn to him with a tight mouth. But Locke only smiles. "Hear me out. Cardan is an idiot. He doesn't know what he's saying sometimes. You don't know him as I do."

I scoff and tilt my head. "I don't need to know him to know that he is an idiot."

He chuckles. "The job is yours if you want it, Jude."

I blink and he lets go of my arm. "What? But he didn't offer it to me."

"He didn't have a chance. As I have said, you left too soon. And you were right about a few things. Fashion Week is almost upon and Cardan refuses to go—" he blinks and puts one hand on his chin "— Well, he needs a personal shopper at least and he knows that."

I blink out of my disbelief and scoff again. "But I have no experience or connections. What are the responsibilities of a personal shopper?"

He raises a brow but keeps an easy expression. "I thought you said you knew all about fashion."

"I lied."

"I didn't notice," he says, mischief flashing in his eyes. "A personal shopper accompanies the client to several stores and boutiques and offers suggestions. They also buy clothes for the client, with and without the client. If you don't know anything about fashion, study up."

"But I haven't even accepted."

Locke drops his hand from his chin to my shoulder and steps forward. His cold hand sends chills up and down my body. He grins, his jaw sharper and his chin pointy.

"You said your parents are expecting good news from you. You are hesitant to tell them the dreadful news of you not getting the job." He cocks his head, his grip on my shoulder tightening. "You have another offer now. If you accept, and you will, you will not be the bearer of bad news this evening."

My heart sinks. Or is it racing? I don't know. But I do know that what he is saying is true. I am hesitant about coming home and proving to my parents that I— I'm not like my sisters. Not as capable or realistic. They have achieved their dreams and I have not.

This job offer may lead me to my dream of becoming a grand poet. And this job offer is the only job offer I have.

Locke sees the answer in my eyes yet he asks anyway. "So, what do you say? What will you decide at this moment?"

I smile and my face flushes. "I accept."

❁❁❁

Dozens of plates lay across the dinner table. Oriana cooked up a delectable dinner of fried nuts, rotisserie chicken, and mashed potatoes. The candles on the table flicker to our slight movements as we serve ourselves.

When Madoc, who sits in the top center, clears his throat, we turn to him. My heart is beating fast that I almost want to puke. He doesn't smile but he doesn't smile much anyway.

"Before we start this nice dinner, I think we'd like to hear Jude's news first." He puts his elbows on the table and crosses his hands. "Jude?"

I swallow and take a deep breath. "Yes, I am eager to break the news." I push my chair back and stand up. Taryn and Oriana share the same worried look while Vivi and Oak share big smiles. "I got the job at Magnolia Company."

The table, besides Madoc, bursts into cheers. Oak stands on his chair and claps excitedly. Taryn hugs me while Vivi blows me a kiss. Oriana nods her head in approval like a queen. I grin and I tell them a variation of how my interview at Magnolia went.

But oh if they only knew what truly happened and which job offer I accepted instead. After dinner, I lock myself in my room and turn on my computer.

I type in WHAT ARE A PERSONAL SHOPPER'S RESPONSIBILITIES? And among other things like the pay, which surprisingly isn't a lot. But Locke gave me an overview of what is expected of me.

Study the trends in magazines. Study the designers. Study the competition. And most importantly, study the fashion shows. While I am not Cardan's assistant, I will usually accompany him wherever he goes.

It's almost midnight when I knock out and want nothing to do with fashion. Fur coats, feathered dresses, silk suits, velvet shoes, bejeweled faces. Some of the clothes look unwearable and unfashionable to me but that is what you call Haute Couture.

The sound of knocking on my door wakes me up, and I pick up my head from my keyboard and notice that I accidentally opened a Word Doc and typed in all kinds of incomprehensible sentences.

I look down at my watch and a sharp gasp comes out of my mouth. _It's morning already?_ I rush to my door and yank it open. Vivi raises a brow at the clothes that I wore last night and my smudged makeup.

Vivi is dressed in a suit with black sneakers. Her brown hair styled in a pixie cut, complimenting the sharp edges of her elegant face. She's so beautiful, I can't believe she's my sister.

"Whoa, did you sleep at all?" She walks in and looks at the bundles of clothes on my floor and my untouched bed. "It looks like you didn't."

I smooth down my disheveled hair and shake my head. Vivi spots my opened computer and furrows her brows.

"Working hard?"

I nod. "I have a lot to research."

She sits on my bed and nods coolly. "I see, I see. We didn't see each other much last night. I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you, Jude. You took a big step yesterday and I know Madoc and Oriana have been pressuring you on getting a job." She shakes her head and clicks her tongue. "But they don't know what's best for you. I guess what I'm trying to say is, do whatever you like, Jude. Don't let this new job stop you from achieving your true dream."

I blush. "I won't. Thanks, Vivi."

We smile at each other and she stands up from my bed. "Okay, I must go now. Heather is on her way."

I nod. "Don't keep her waiting."

She grins. "I won't. Good luck on your first day. I'm surprised they didn't give you a few days after they accepted you."

"Major project coming up," I say. She waves goodbye and leaves my room. I shut my door and prepare myself for the day.

I'm meeting with Locke at a small restaurant where we will discuss more Cardan's likes and dislikes. Why Cardan is not joining us, I don't know. Maybe not to attract any attention to his shabby self. Ha!

I dress the part of a corporate employee— dress pants and a blazer over a clean shirt. For my hair, I use a silk scarf for a scrunchie. Taryn waits for me in her car while she’s on her phone reading today’s news articles.

When I get in, she turns to me. “Oh. You’re ready.” She looks down at her phone again with a frown.

“What’s up?”

Taryn purses her lips. “My job,” she says. “A last-minute presentation was announced for this morning. I suspect we're going to pause whatever we’re working on to work on something else. It’s not the first time and it won’t certainly be the last.”

She puts her phone down and starts the car. “Magnolia Company, right?” I nod. “Okay, let’s go.”

The ride is short, and she drops me off in the front. I wave goodbye until I see her car turn a corner and I run to the rented bicycles. The restaurant is not far from here but my fear of crashing makes it seem like it is far. Horns blow in the air, the smell of exhaust looms over us, the cold air chills me. At a stop sign, I come across the gigantic digital advertisement to Cardan’s face.

He looks devastatingly gorgeous. He stands in a bed of flowers wearing a princely outfit of black and scarlet red details. Black eyeliner is smudge around his eyes, but soft pink tears are drawn down his cheeks. His black hair pushed and brushed back, revealing more of his sharp and elegant face. In his ringed hand, he holds a glass rose.

 _To think I saw him yesterday. To think that he looked at me. To think that I_ — I catch myself from saying something that popped into my head unwarranted. The green light turns on and I move on, thinking of nothing but miles and street names.

I arrive at the nearest bicycle stop and drop it off before I run down the street and pause in front of a man waiting in front of the restaurant. He tips his head for me and smiles.

“Good morning. Do you have a reservation, young lady?”

“I’m meeting a Locke Fowler.”

“Right this way, miss.” He steps aside and enters the cozy restaurant that is so far empty. The waiters are setting up tables with clean white cloths, silver utensils, and magenta-colored napkins. He leads me to the bar, where I see Locke waiting for me.

“Jude, you’re right on time,” he says, hopping off his chair. “Sit down for a bit.”

I sit down next to him and put my tote bag on my lap. “How did you get in here? The place looks to be closed still.”

He smiles. “I own this restaurant.” My eyes widened with surprise. “My father owns an enterprise of restaurants. I bought this one because I love its exciting ambiance. If you’re free later, I can show you what I mean.”

“That’d be great,” I say, shifting in my seat. “So, the job …”

Locke smiles. “I have a catalog and past journals from the last personal shopper. Review them for a second and tell me what you discovered.” He slides the books from behind him over to me.

THE FINAL CONFIRMATIONS OF RUNWAY

Journal #52 and #54

“Where’s journal 53?”

Locke shrugs. “It’s gone, or I believe the previous personal shopper took it with them.”

I open the journals first. Every page is scribbled on, blue and black ink bleeding through the lines. Red check marks, green circles, yellow and pink highlights. Crossed-out lines. Days detailing what clothes were bought and from where. Which are rented and which are bought. Both journals are alike, except there is a stark difference.

Journal #52 has a section parted for rejections. Clothes and styles that Cardan dislikes, the media mocks, or what the designers categorize as “failed ideas.” I see that the previous personal shopper has bought Cardan a few of these rejected styles. A total of fifty rejections. The second journal has even more rejections. A total of 106 styles.

I look up at Locke. “He was not up to the latest trends,” I say.

“Exactly. Some models can dress however they like but Cardan is different. He’s the face of Elfhame, one of the most, if not _the_ most prestigious fashion magazine out there. However, he’s—” Locke pauses and smiles nervously. “Let’s put it this way. If you are popular, everyone will follow your choices and copy your style. If you are not, people will follow someone else. Cardan is on his way to becoming a major trendsetter.”

I raise a brow. “I thought he was a trendsetter. He’s the face of Elfhame, you said. They dub him the Prince of Elfhame.”

“Yes, he is desirable in the market but he’s not exactly friendly. You think he’s the face of Elfhame because he is friendly? No. But a cordial demeanor is a plus to some people. People like you. Say, what have you heard of him so far?”

“Well, I think he’s receiving too much attention. He’s only where he is because of his famous family, the Greenbriars. And he seems like a narcissistic and arrogant person.”

Locke laughs, drawing the attention of waiters and staff members. But he stops once we hear a voice behind us. We turn and my heart drops.

Cardan pushes his hair back from his face and glares at me. “I mean to apologize for my behavior yesterday but I see that you are just as intolerable as you were when I met you.” His dark eyes go over to Locke’s. “Leave us. It’s only me and the girl.”

Locke stands up and gives me a _good luck_ look before leaving quietly. I stand, too, and frown. “Locke wasn’t done discussing with me.”

“He’s done when I say he’s done.” He steps forward, like before, and I stay still. “He is not your friend. And just because he offered you a job that he wasn’t supposed to offer doesn’t mean he’s the employer. I am.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded again by his blunt response. I have never met anyone like him. In all my high school and college years, I've never met someone who was overly rude and shocking. I blink, going over his face as if he’s not real and only a hologram. But he is, and I realize something that I have always known.

Cardan Greenbriar _is_ a dick.

The corners of my mouth quirk and his eyes darken. “Since you are my employer, what do you need?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“You’re coming with me,” he says, the strong emotion in his eyes not fading one bit. “We’re meeting my agent at Faerieland Modeling Agency, and you’ll be picking up clothes. It will be up to you to choose something appropriate for me. I’m sure Locke has given you a rundown.”

“He could’ve given me a better image if you didn’t send him off,” I say.

“He has his other matters,” he says sharply. “And we have ours.” He turns around and royally strolls with his chin up to the exit without a word. I pick up the book and journals and put them inside my tote bag. I tag behind Cardan, hoping I can do this job whilst tolerating him.

But wonder of all wonders, I find tolerating him much harder than the actual job. At the agency near West Hollywood, Cardan takes a few photos while his agent reviews upcoming photoshoots. I try not to eavesdrop but it’s hard not to. As I’m looking at the clothes on the clothing rack, I listen.

“Cardan, Victoire wants to hear an answer by tomorrow,” his agent says, who is a thin woman with long hair down to her waist.

Cardan sighs exasperatedly. “He keeps asking for me,” he says, a look of disgust on his face. “Tell him I am booked to the brim.”

She nods. “Enchanted Designs is also awaiting an answer.”

At this, Cardan perks up a bit. “Where?”

“They want to shoot you for their Summer and Fall cover. In France at Cap Fréhel.”

“It’s a yes then.”

“But …” She glances at me before leaning in and whispering something to him. His slightly excited expression falls, and that’s how my hell begins. He gives me no time to gather all the clothing before he’s brooding in the car. His knee bounces the whole ride to the apartment, and when we arrive, he closes the door in front of me just as I am coming out.

“Hey!” I kick open the door and step outside the car, frowning at him. “Your clothes are going to get wrinkly if you push me.”

“Tomorrow, be here with my orders.”

“What orders? Where from?”

“Indulge someone else with your questions,” he says. His eyes are not on me but a rolling car coasting to a stop behind me in the street. A tall slender woman steps out, her hair the color of the ocean and her eyes the color of silver seafoam, and waves at Cardan who strides over to her. She doesn’t see me, even as I am struggling with ten bags of clothes and a bag of heavy jewelry.

He hops in the car, and the two ride off down the street. And I stand there like a fool with my mouth hanging open. His car rides off without warning and leaves me stranded. I drop everything on the ground and take out my phone. It’s the afternoon but the days are becoming shorter.

The line rings and rings but Locke doesn’t pick up. I groan in frustration. “That rat!” I pick everything up and try to ring the front doors to the apartment but no one comes. So, I wait until someone comes in and out.

A text message pops up:

> 19:30 - _Jude, where are you? Want me to pick you up from your work?_

It’s my sister, Taryn. Dammit. I text back:

> 19:32 - _No, I might be running late tonight. Tell the others not to worry. I’ll see you soon._

Taryn texts back a minute later:

> 19:33 - _Okay, but tell me if you need me to pick you up later. See ya._

I sit down on a step and try calling Locke. After seven, he picks up laughing into the phone. “Yes, who is this?”

“Uh, it’s Jude. Look, Cardan left me in front of his apartment without any more information. Can you help me out here a bit?”

“W-What? I can’t hear you, Jude.” Music blares out from his end. Along with chants of “chug, chug, chug.” Locke laughs again, which ignites something in my heart.

“Locke, I need to drop off things at the apartment.”

“You … what? You need to _what_?” he asks, then he laughs again. I almost repeat myself when I hear Cardan’s voice. I am sure it is his. No one can sound sharp or arrogant as he does. “Jude, go home. I can’t speak right now.”

“But Cardan left me with his clothes!”

“Hang up,” I hear someone say on the line. But I’m not sure who said it.

“Yeah, don’t worry. You usually take them with you. Drop them off tomorrow and—” The phone call ends. I almost quit right then and there. But I can’t. But what else can I do? Angry tears well up in my eyes and if Madoc saw me, he won’t stop shaking his head at me in disappointment.

 _Never let anyone belittle you_ , he often says. _Never let them see you cry._

Drying up my cheeks, I make a vow. “If he wants to give me hell, I would do the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter next week if I'm not busy :) I'm still planning where this story might go but I got some ideas that are pretty interesting, I'd say.


	3. Biting Off More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'll start putting my notes at the beginning when there are possible mature themes. I want to stress again that this AU is rated Mature. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next chapter will get into the fashion world! Sorry, it's taking so long lol but I needed to review more of these fashion events in a general aspect. I am no expert of course :)

I called all major boutiques to find out where Cardan's orders were. Crossing out names and addresses until I finally pinpointed the location. And it only took three hours of my sleeping time.

Yay.

The problem is how am I going to get the orders on time without Taryn finding out?

I check my bank account and I only have enough for one ride, one meal, and one ride back. Who knows how many rounds I need to do today? I stare down at my left hand—the one with the missing tip of my ring finger. 

Without warning, my accident flashes before my eyes. When I was eight years old, I played hide and seek with my sisters. I snuck into a car and hid in the backseat. Someone entered the car and started driving it all of a sudden. 

I must've fallen asleep and when I woke up, I was startled and so was the driver. The driver crashed into another vehicle and I flew through the front window, bouncing against airbags, and a sharp piece of glass managed to cut through my ring finger. 

I still remember staring at the bloody missing tip lying in front of me as I laid on the ground, holding my bleeding hand and screaming as I've never screamed before. I don't think such a small body could hold so much blood.

I look away, catching my breath and letting the memory pass over me. I'm now 23-years-old and I haven't really gotten over it. Thankfully, my family doesn't force me to drive or anything like that. 

But this job is forcing me to reconsider learning how to drive. 

My alarm on my phone rings and I shut it before anyone hears it. I must collect the orders before 9 AM, which is in three hours. I pick myself up from my desk and walk sluggishly to my bathroom. 

Dark circles appear around my eyes and already I see my skin breaking out. But after applying concealer and foundation, my skin looks dewy and fresh. 

A notification bell rings on my phone. I go to it and see a message from Locke. 

> 6:34 - _Jude, I'm so sorry about last night. Cardan decided last minute to go to a party with me, and I've forgotten to give you a key to our apartment. To make up for it, let me pick you up. You're going to have to give me your address this time._

If I wasn't so tired right now, I would've denied his help. But I truly need some information still. Cardan abandoned me yesterday. And I don't want to feel lost as I did waiting for my Uber in the cold surrounded by expensive clothes and jewelry. 

So, I give him my address and sneak all the bags of clothes and jewelry to the front yard before anyone wakes up. Cardan might kill me if he ever finds out where I hung his bags. Over the monkey bars in Oak's playground set. 

I eat an apple and drink some water before leaving the house and waiting in the chilly morning air for Locke.

He arrives and helps me carry the bags inside the car. The light upstairs to my parents' room turns on, and I tell Locke to start driving away. 

"Why?"

"Because we need to be at Mirth Boutique to pick up the orders," I say like it's obvious. 

He starts the car and raises a brow. "How do you know the orders are from Mirth Boutique?"

"I did my homework last night."

He nods and smiles. "You surprise me again, Jude. We're dropping by at my place first."

I'm too tired to reply, so on the way to his apartment, we listen to the radio in silence. Locke's russet hair is all disheveled as if he rolled out of bed only thirty minutes ago. 

He keeps yawning, which makes me yawn, too. And if I say the word "yawn" again, I won't stop. At his apartment, he helps me carry a few of the bags. He stumbles a bit.

"When did you arrive?"

"I think three hours ago," he answers, yawning again.

 _Wow, and to think I was waiting for Cardan to come back for me_. I follow Locke through the lobby and stairs until we're standing in front of the door.

"You still have at least two hours. Why don't you stay for some breakfast? Cardan is in his room, asleep I think, so he won't disturb us."

He opens the door and I see the living room is exactly how I last saw it. He puts the clothes over the couch and walks inside the kitchen. 

"Where do you want me to hang them?"

"In the closet over there in the hall." I pick them up and reach for the closest door when Locke steps out of the kitchen and says, "That's Cardan's room. I would not go in there. I said _I think_ he is sleeping. He's got company."

My hand pulls away from the doorknob and I return to the living room with a blush on my face. Locke smiles and returns to the kitchen. 

"Come over here. I'm still a bit hungover."

"From yesterday's party?" I ask, joining him in front of the stove.

"Yes."

"How are you awake right now? I can't imagine waking up early after such a night."

He reaches for a pan and places it on the stove then goes into his refrigerator for eggs and bacon. "Hmm, you'll be surprised, Jude, what commitments can keep me alert."

"And what commitment is that?" I ask, looking at him as he suddenly blushes and turns to me, closing the refrigerator with his shoulder. 

"You are." He joins my side again and prepares the breakfast combo. I blush and bite my bottom lip. 

After a couple of seconds, I ask, "Why are you still helping me? Why are _you_ not Cardan's personal shopper or assistant?"

"I'm a friend, not a coworker. And I'm helping you because I'm trying to be a kinder person."

I smile. "I wish _you_ were my employer." Locke glances at me but doesn't say a word. I cross my arms. "Cardan won't answer me or help me. He's too impatient and surreal. Is he usually like this? I can't imagine him ever being kind."

"He's like that," he confirms. "But it's why I like him. It's always interesting to see how others perceive him and behave around him. He's like a dramatic play that no one knows the spoilers. It's exciting."

Locke serves me a plate of eggs and bacon on the small table in the kitchen and sits down across from me.

"I want to finish our discussion yesterday."

At the same time, the doorbell rings, and Locke hops off and goes to a mechanism attached to the wall near the door. He presses a button and speaks into it.

"Yes?"

"Cardan's assistant," they say. _Assistant?_

Locke pushes a button again. "I didn't know he was expecting you today."

"He's not but considering that he's not responding to my emails, calls, or messages, I figure I come up and tell him something of importance. Please."

The buzzer sounds off, and Locke pulls away into the hall and knocks on Cardan's door. 

"Cardan, your assistant is coming up. She wants to discuss something important."

Locke returns to the kitchen where I'm finishing up my breakfast. A strange uneasy feeling stirs in my belly. I don't know what's going to happen but since Cardan's assistant is coming up, I can ask her more about what Cardan likes.

The door to Cardan's room opens, and a girl wearing a blue lace and silk lingerie strolls out, her lovely sleepy face not a hint of embarrassment. My eyes widen as I remember her as the girl who picked up Cardan yesterday. 

When she sees me, she smiles. "Oh, we have company," she says.

"Jude, this is Nicasia Mar, one of the best up and coming models," Locke says, then in a quieter voice, "and my girlfriend."

 _Girlfriend? But she was in Cardan's room._ I want to point it out but I don't want to sound rude. I stand up to shake her hand but then she turns her direction to Cardan who stumbles out of his room wearing black leather pants and a black sheer robe. His skin is pale, his waist slim but his body is also well built. In his hand is a bottle of wine. 

Nicasia notices me staring and moves behind Cardan with a smirk.

"Cardan, we have a guest."

When his eyes fall on me, he frowns but I'm not sure he knows what he's looking at. Though he must've known a second later because he starts covering himself, bringing the robe closer. 

"What do _you_ want?"

"Um—"

Locke stands up. "She is our guest but she's not who I called you out for." There's a knock on the door and Locke runs to open it. 

Nicasia sits down on the couch, stretching her long legs, and picks up a magazine, her long blue-green hair curled in front of her chest. She doesn't look up as Cardan's assistant comes in through the door. Locke rejoins me at the table.

"Oh, it's you," Cardan says, hiding the bottle behind him. "It's a miracle that you're here."

The assistant is a scrawny woman with short orange hair and bloodshot eyes. She stands there almost trembling but she looks determined. 

"Cardan Greenbriar, I resign."

Cardan tilts his head in question. "What? Do you resign? What on earth drove you to that decision? It is _I_ who should consider that end for you."

She shakes her head. "You've been ignoring me. You have missed deals. I have discussed with your agent but you keep making decisions without telling me about them."

"I have never ignored you. I was waiting for you to call me but you never did leave any messages," Cardan says, seemingly sobering up.

"I can no longer work for you, Mr. Greenbriar. So, I resign immediately. That is why I came here."

Cardan hardens his jaw and stares at her with haunting anger in his black eyes. "Then what are you waiting for? Leave. I'll just find another assistant who can do the job."

She retrieves a few datebooks from her bag and puts them on the floor. Then she leaves before I can ever ask her for help. 

Nicasia laughs but I'm unsure whether she's laughing because she read something funny in the magazine or of what ensued. 

My cheeks pink with unwarranted secondhand embarrassment. All I want is to leave. And I must. It's almost time to pick up the orders. And I'll need all the time to get there on time. 

I stand. "I better get going. Thank you for the breakfast, Locke."

Locke grins. "My pleasure."

I gather my things and start to put away the clothes inside the closet. Locke stands up and goes to Cardan who starts lighting up a blunt. 

"I knew when I hired her that she was hoping to be a mess," Cardan grumbles. "It'll take weeks to search for another assistant. And I certainly don't have time."

I'm heading for the door when Locke suggests, "What about Jude?" And I stop and whirl around. 

Cardan brings the cylinder to his lips and inhales. "What about her?" He exhales and glances at me.

Locke moves faster before I have time to think about what he's planning. "Jude can be your assistant. I hear she's studious. She's already picking up your clothes, so …"

He leaves it hanging and Cardan leans against the backside of the couch and looks down at the floor, perhaps pondering about Locke's suggestion. 

"She's not ideal and if I had the time, I would certainly have not chosen her but I am running out of time." He looks up at me, a wave of black hair falling over his eyes. 

"Wait," I say, my heart pounding in my ears. "I think I deserve to say a few words. After all, I'm the one doing the work."

Cardan narrows his eyes and brings the blunt to his mouth again. "You have a counter?"

"Not so much as concerns," I say. "I am your personal shopper since yesterday. I accepted because I needed a job, but—"

"You're declining already before I even offered it?" He inches from the couch and straightens his back, giving the blunt to Nicasia who watches intently. "You said you have concerns. What are they?"

 _I can't drive. I can't rush back and forth on a bike. I have no clue about fashion. I don't care about any of this_. 

Cardan steps forward until he's towering over me at the door. A rush of adrenaline courses through my veins. My heart sinks dangerously low to my belly, I almost clutch it. But I stand tall and stare into his eyes. 

"I'll tell you what," he begins, his expression surprisingly genuine. "I will seriously consider passing your name to Nightfell Agency. I need an assistant, and while I don't regularly do any favors, I am desperate."

You mean, he wasn't considering it? But here it is again. My chance of achieving my dream. Two days ago, it was given and taken within the same minute. Now, it's real. Maybe I can hold off giving hell to Cardan a bit longer.

"I have a condition," I say and I'm hoping I don't let the offer slip from my fingertips. "Pay me now. And pay me the salary of being your assistant."

He raises a brow. "Is that all?"

 _And please be easy with me._ But I can't ask him of that. That's too much to ask.

"Yes."

Cardan reaches into his pocket and procures a small wallet. He takes out a few dollars and gives them to me. I count it immediately, forgetting that I use my finger with the missing tip to hold back the bills. 

But Cardan's focus is on my face. When I look up, he frowns a bit.

"Twenty dollars?"

"Is what you'll receive an hour that you work for me. I hope you're content." He turns around and picks up the datebooks from the floor. He hands them to me. "Review them and speak to my agent. Her number should be there. We'll meet tomorrow."

I nod, taking them. "I'll be back to deliver your orders."

"Oh? I have changed my mind about them. Cancel them and get a refund."

I almost quit again. Cardan shares a smile with Nicasia and she laughs. Locke blushes and hides his face from me. Cardan turns to me. 

"See you tomorrow."

Maybe I'll give him a taste of it. Just a taste of hell. 

❁❁❁

Surprise, surprise, I have Cardan Greenbriar's phone number. It's a wonder I barely have it now. I'm crossing out a few appointments that have passed and circled others that have not passed. 

I dial Cardan's agent, Sarah Driver, about his upcoming events. She picks up after three rings. 

"Yes, this is Sarah Driver from Faerieland Modeling Agency."

"This is Cardan Greenbriar's new personal assistant. I'm wondering if you can provide me a summary of his upcoming commitments."

"New assistant, oh, may I have your name?"

"Jude Duarte. This is my phone number that you can use. He's given me your private line."

"Right, right, um, let me see here." I click my pen and prepare to write. "Okay, here are his events, commitments, and appointments and go-sees until January." She begins listing them off so fast that my hand hurts and some words come misspelled. 

"Thank you, Ms. Driver, for your time."

"No problem, Miss Duarte. However, please discuss this with Mr. Greenbriar. He sometimes likes to change his decisions."

"I will. Thank you. Have a good rest of the day."

"You, too. Bye, bye, now." The line ends and I sigh and put my phone away. 

My head hurts with all this information and responsibilities. Pulling out a small journal for my poems, I peel to a new page. An idea strikes like lightning. 

> _cold eyes_
> 
> _The world adores the muse_
> 
> _she, he, they_
> 
> _abhor to lose you_
> 
> _but you hold the ruse_
> 
> _in those cold dark eyes of yours_
> 
> _In there I see the real you_

I pick my head up and smile, imagining the cruel anger in Cardan's eyes, and remember how his hair fell over his eyes. What a shame such beauty is wasted in a person as rude and beastly as him.

I return to Magnolia Company, where Taryn picks me up. I jump in the car with a big smile.

"Good day?"

"Much better than yesterday," I admit.

She drives off when safe and smiles. "I'm happy to hear that. I had a good day at work, too. Remember that meeting I told you about yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"Our mission is to show the underrepresented beauties in life. They're real people, too, and they have a lot to share. We're starting a YouTube account where we'll post these truthful interviews and content. Like you and your poems. I tell everyone at work about you, and we’ll like to hear you at one of the local poetry readings someday."

"Really?"

She glances at me. "Of course! Not just you but writers, artists, singers, and musicians. There are a lot of potentials out there. We're a small company but this could gain us traction."

“That’s awesome, Taryn.”

“If you know anyone with hidden talent, tell me. I want to know.”

I nod. “I will.”

Although there isn’t much hidden talent but luck where I’m heading at.


	4. Abyss of Silks and Jewels

Cardan waits for me in front of his apartment dressed in a black ensemble—a dress shirt with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and slack pants. Over that is a long overcoat. He doesn't smile when he sees me.

I see myself reflected in his dark sunglasses. "Good morning," I say, a bit breathless from the run from the bus stop. "Where are we going?"

Cardan moves around me. "Hmm, you tell me. You're my assistant now. Or have you forgotten?"

 _Right._ I take out my datebook and go to the current week. Three go-sees, and as his shopper, we need to stop by at Rodeo Drive. 

"You have an appointment with Skylark, Roseriver Co., and Insmire Couture." I look up to see him pull out a tiny bottle of rum and drink it.

He grimaces, clearing his throat. "That's fantastic," he grumbles. "You got my portfolio?"

"No, it wasn't included with the books you gave me yesterday. Is it in your apartment?"

He furrows his brows. "I suppose it is." He reaches in his pocket again and passes me the key. "Tell Locke to give you a copy of the key. You'll be visiting often and I will _not_ go down to open the door for you."

I nod. "Got it. Is your portfolio near your bed?"

"I'll wait in the car," he says curtly and strides over to his car waiting in the front. "Don't take too long." He hops in and slams the door shut. 

I hurry to the front and inject the key to enter the lobby. I stop short in front of the elevator with a sign that says UNDER MAINTENANCE. 

_Did Cardan know this and try to send me on a speed run?_

I go up the stairs to the seventh floor until I'm standing in front of the door. Thankfully, there's no one in the apartment. I don't think I have time for small talk.

I enter Cardan's bedroom and pause at the scene. His bed of silk sheets is unmade, his closet open with a few pieces of clothing on the floor, and the curtains are splattered with dry paint. Bottles of alcohol and two hookah accessories fill up space on his counters and nightstands. 

I ignore a few other scandalous items in the bedroom and search for his portfolio. I discover tossed rings, broken glass, and ripped paper wherever I look. Eventually, I find it on a shelf near a curious children's book.

 _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ by Lewis Carroll. 

I pick it up and a small letter slides out. On the letter, " _For Cardan_ " is written in cursive. Considering I have wasted time searching for his portfolio, I snatch the letter and put the book away. 

Back in the car, Cardan is bouncing his knee again, the rings on his fingers glittering with every movement. 

"You took forever," he complains, crossing his arms. He turns to the driver at the front. "To Skylark."

The driver starts the car and heads for the destination. Luckily he knows where.

"I'm sorry," I say, putting on my seatbelt. "Your room is a bit messy."

"I hope you didn't take anything," he says, turning to the window. "Or I will track you down."

I shake my head. "Of course not. You and I are different people. And I do not need jewelry or alcohol, I guess."

"I suppose you like books and pens and paper," he says, holding his chin up with his hand. "Plain and simple is your style."

He turns to me, regarding my clothing, which consists of a long grey cardigan, a white buttoned T-shirt, and black jeans and white flats. For a second, his eyes fall to my chest. And I blush. 

While my figure is slim, my breasts are fuller and my hips are wide. He looks up at me and narrows his eyes. 

"Are we running late?"

I blink. "Huh?"

"To the appointment," he says, annoyed. 

"Oh, um, no your appointment is in thirty minutes," I say, flipping through the datebook in my tote bag. 

He leans back and sighs. "Skylark will make me a priority. When we get there, wait in the lobby with the rest of the models. Or you can wait here. I don't care."

I nod. "Anything else?"

"No."

We park a little ways from the store. I get out of the car and Cardan follows suit, taking off his overcoat and leaving it inside. He joins me on the sidewalk and gives me his portfolio. 

"Let's hurry," he says, "and stay close behind."

We walk up the street until we arrive at Skylark. I hurry to open the door for him but it's heavy. Made of glass. Cardan taps his foot while I put his portfolio under my arm and I open the door with two hands. 

He takes the portfolio from under my arm and whispers into my ear as he passes. 

"Don't do that again. I'm not so sure you smell nice."

I can't tell if he's being mean or cautious. But I pretend it didn't affect me as it did. The models, of all genders, gasp at the sight of Cardan. One, in particular, stands up and greets him. 

"Cardan, I didn't think I'd see you here!"

Cardan pauses, taking off his sunglasses, and turns to him. "Valerian, you're back from Hawaii?"

He nods and stands in front of him. His hair is the color of gold and his skin is pale. "Yes, I thought Nicasia told you. I arrived three days ago."

"No, she didn't. But I am not in the least concerned of your whereabouts, Valerian. Not like you are of mine."

Valerian laughs. "Unfortunately that is true." He glances over my shoulder. "Who's she? She's not a model, right? She looks a bit short and plain."

"No. Don't mind her. She's my assistant."

Valerian's eyes flash with mischief. "Is that so? I always thought the other one was useless and unattractive. This one is better looking but still plain."

"I'd love to insult my assistant further but I must go."

"You'll get it. Like you _always_ do."

Cardan leaves and continues down the hall where he meets with a woman. He disappears around the corner and I wait in the lobby while all the models stare at me, wondering who I am. 

I decide to wait outside where the air is fresh and bearable. Valerian follows me out and grabs my elbow. I turn around to him, my heart racing. 

"Cardan's new assistant, huh?" he says, hardening his jaw.

"Yes. I am."

"For a second there, I thought you were his girlfriend," he says, his grip still on my elbow. "But you're not pretty enough for that."

I frown. "He's with Nicasia," I say, balling up my hands. 

He crosses his arms. "Yes but she's with Locke. What happened to his last assistant?"

"She quit."

He cocks his head and sneers. "Of course she did. No one stays with Cardan for so long. When did she quit?"

"A few days ago," I say, not knowing where this conversation is going. 

His blond brows raise in surprise. "A few days ago? And he gave you the job so quickly? What did you do? Sleep with him?" He laughs, his shoulders bouncing. 

I check my anger before answering carefully. "No, I did not." You ignorant piece of shit.

"Here's a secret." He steps forward and puts his hands on my shoulders. "I'm one of Cardan's close friends. I know how he is. He doesn't care about anyone else but himself. He plays with all his assistants and when he's bored with them, he ignores them until they quit."

"Why? How is that helpful to him?" I ask.

"Cardan doesn't really need an assistant. He needs amusements. It comes with a price but he loves watching people struggle with his impossible personality and unpredictable decisions. You seem like a nice girl, so I'm warning you."

Valerian turns around without another word and enters the building. I withdraw to the car and wait inside. Cardan "plays" with his assistants until they go mad and quit? His other assistant came in shaking like a leaf and bloodshot eyes. She ignored everyone in the room.

His shopper might be a similar story. The many mistakes they made with buying clothes. Cardan did make me try to pick up his orders and then made me cancel them and get a refund. Like he was toying with me and everyone knew it.

I knew Cardan was a dick but I think this is a bit too much. He's paying me as his employee. And paying me generously. It doesn't make sense and yet it does. I can't ignore the former assistant's tired face.

After a couple of minutes, Cardan strides down the street and opens the door. Once he hops in, we leave for our second destination.

"I got the job. Next time come with me, I don't want to have to memorize information. I have a photoshoot with them on November 1st at Malibu beach at 9 in the morning."

I write it all down in the planner. It's two weeks from now. He doesn't add anything, so I put away the planner and remember to seek the actual address.

I turn to the window, seeing my own stressed eyes staring back at me. I'm worried. But I shouldn't be. I'm getting paid nonetheless but my dream is on the line again. 

Cardan promised. Well, he didn't really. But he did say he was desperate to have me as his assistant and considered giving my name to Nightfell Agency as a favor to me. 

I rub the stub of my missing finger on my left hand. It's a selfish thought. That I'm doing all this to catch my dream but isn't that being selfless, too? Doing this for myself because it makes me happy?

I could go ahead and achieve it like normal but this is the path offered to me. A word of mouth. And for the moment, no one can take it away from me. Not even Cardan.

I turn to look at him discreetly, at the luscious black curls complementing the sharp planes of his face. He puts one hand to his forehead, grimacing as the car goes over slight bumps on the road. 

"Slowly."

The car goes over another bump and Cardan rests his head on the window frame and squeezes his eyes shut. He drums his finger on his bouncing knee.

"I detest those speed bumps." He opens his eyes and straightens himself. "Driver, stop the car. I said stop the car!"

The driver pulls into a stop, but we're not yet at our destination. Cardan jumps out and shuts the door without a word to me. I meet with the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror and ask, "Does he usually demand to be let off?"

"Yes, miss."

"Where does he go?"

He shakes his head. "I don't have the slightest idea."

Cardan comes back ten minutes later, a bit more relaxed. 

"Everything all right?" I ask.

"The sun's too bright," he says, a small frown on his face. "Everything's too bright." And that is all he says.

We come up to our second destination and we get out of the car. Cardan peels off his overcoat and rings but keeps his sunglasses on. Without the fashionable and glittering items, Cardan looks more natural. But despite that natural display, he still looks enchanting.

He strides up the steep sidewalk, and I am forced to hurry behind him, tugging his portfolio in my tote bag. Roseriver Co. is in a department building, on the second floor. On a landing, Cardan stops and turns around. I flinch and step back. 

"What, is there a problem?" I ask.

"What did you say the third stop was?" he asks.

"Insmire Couture," I answer. "An hour from now if that's what you wanted to know. Depending on how much time you spend here, we can take a break before your next appointment."

Cardan shakes his head. "And is that all on our roster?"

I blush. "No, I planned to also stop by Rodeo Drive. I saw your closet and you need more clothes."

"Why didn't you inform me of that addition?" He frowns, tapping his foot. 

"I was planning on telling you after the go-sees."

He steps forward, and I am surprised by his height. I look up at him, at my small frame in the reflection of his sunglasses. My heart races and I don't know why. 

Have I made a grave mistake? Is this strike one or game over? Has he decided to let me go? For a while, he's been telling the driver where to go based on the places' names. Am I no longer needed? 

"I would prefer that you tell me about my _full_ schedule. I hate surprises. And I hate being teased."

"I wasn't teasing you."

He raises a brow and he gives a contemptuous smile. "Oh, you were. You might not have known it but I was led to believe my responsibilities were over after the go-sees. I had the idea that I would be free but unfortunately, that is not true."

"I am confused," I admit, a slight frown forming on my face. "I thought you would accompany me as I chose your clothes anyway. But then I can see you letting me do the choosing by myself."

"You _suggest. I_ choose which clothes I eventually like to purchase," he clarifies. "While you are my shopper, I like to oversee some visits sometimes."

"Then I hope you're inclined to accompany me for this trip." _Now don't complain!_ "I'm glad we got that settled."

I move around him but he catches my arm and stops me. His hand is cold, tight around my lower arm like a vine. I lift my eyes to his sunglasses. I am lucky I'm not staring directly into his gold-rimmed black eyes. 

"Careful there," he says, his tone low and serious. "By your snarky manner of speaking to me, I'm leaning toward retiring home after the final go-see."

"As your shopper, I beseech that you do join me. You hired me for that role first."

He tilts his head to the side. "I did not have the opportunity to do so. Locke did it."

"For you."

"And you accepted."

My cheeks flame with frustration. I fight the urge to smack his hand from my arm, but if I'm receiving this kind of scrutiny for talking to him in some sort of way, then I can't imagine what reprehension I may get for shoving him off. 

"You were desperate for me," I say, balling up my hand. "I'm your assistant because you had no one. I'm doing you a favor."

"I am, too." His grip becomes tighter as he yanks me forward until I'm directly in front of him, so close I can smell the wistful smell of jasmine and smoke. "And I can decide to not recommend you."

"And I can leave you." My heartbeat is loud in my ears. "You need someone to help you before and during Fashion Week. I'm the only one there for you. And I say you're coming with me to Rodeo Drive."

We stare at each other for a hot minute. What we both want is on the line and it dawns on me that I'm right. I need him and he needs me to fulfill our goals. He must be coming to that conclusion as well because he lets me go and scoffs.

"Fine. I will go. But not because I am threatened by you. Fashion Week is the most important event of the year for me and nothing, not even _you_ , will cause me to lose sight of it."

I follow Cardan into Roseriver Co. Dozens of stylish suits clothe dummies standing along the wall and in front of the glass window. The room smells of steamed fabric and jazz music plays quietly in the background.

I wonder what was Skylark's apparel. Considering there were a bunch of models there, it could be a variety of clothes. Swimsuits, dresses, casual wear, and more. I hand Cardan his portfolio as a small woman with brown skin and long black hair strolls out.

"Ah, Cardan Greenbriar, you're here early."

He nods. "Yes, I am eager to see you. Roseriver Co. is always a pleasure to represent."

The woman smiles. "Thank you so much. Shall we move to the backroom?"

"We shall." We start to leave when the woman stops at me.

"Oh, you wanted to speak to me?"

I open my mouth to answer but Cardan cuts to the chase. "She's my assistant. Would it be all right if she joined us?"

The woman smiles again. "Of course! Anything you want. Follow me you two."

We retire to the backroom where the woman examines Cardan's portfolio, commenting how beautiful he looks in all of them. When she looks up at him, she's practically beaming with excitement.

"Pass on to the dressing room. You will be trying out three suits and do a walk for each."

While he goes to change, I step beside her. She turns to me.

"I am always so thrilled when Mr. Greenbriar chooses to visit us. He's so in demand these days, I'm surprised he still does small brands. I'm hiring him for commercial shooting."

"You're hiring him already?" I blurt.

"Of course. He's fantastic."

I take out the planner and a pen. "May I record the details of this commercial shooting?"

She tells me before Cardan walks out with the first suit. Colorful threaded flowers are embroidered across the white fitted jacket. His white pants follow the pattern with green vines and stems. He wears nothing underneath the jacket.

My heart drops painfully as he walks toward us, his expression stern, and his eyes cold. I almost reached for the woman's hand for some kind of support. The woman smiles, looking at him up and down. 

"Good, good. The next one please."

He returns to the dressing room again and comes out in a black suit that matches his raven head. Tiny constellations embellish the fabric. As he walks, I catch myself looking at his almost bare chest.

I blush and clear my throat quietly. The third suit is bright crimson red. Even though it's plain, the color speaks for itself. The woman crooks a finger and he strolls to her.

"You got the job. You're what I have been looking for."

Cardan smiles, I didn't know it could be lovely. 

"Thank you. I'm flattered." He turns to me. "You got the details?"

I nod. "Yes."

Cardan turns back to the woman. "As always, it's wonderful to see you, Chloe."

Chloe nods. "No, thank _you_."

Back in the car, Cardan lapses back to his miserable self. He covers his face with his long and elegant hands as we head to Insmire Couture. 

He drops them and turns to me. "Cancel the last appointment."

"Why? We're almost there," I say. "If you cancel, it might not look good for you."

"I don't care. I can't do it."

Now I'm even more confused. "I've seen you with Chloe. You're great at what you do. You know she hired you before you even walked for her?"

He scoffs. "How rash of her."

"You're going. I would see to it that you do." I turn to the driver. "Keep at for Insmire Couture. Then we're heading to Rodeo Drive right after."

"If I said to cancel, you _will_ cancel," he says gravely. 

I raise a brow. "Are we going to have that conversation again?"

We glare at each other and when we look the other way, we're here at our destination. Tall and slender models are waiting in the lobby. Cardan doesn't acknowledge them as he cuts through the line and joins with a lady at the front. 

I hurry to say his name but the lady already seems to know who he is. 

"Cardan Greenbriar. Welcome."

He nods curtly and follows her to the backroom where three designers are sitting behind a table. When they see him, they stand up.

Cardan's mood switches to a tolerable one. He takes off his sunglasses and shakes their hand. I wait in the background, taking out my planner to let anyone know I'm with him. 

A model comes out dressed in a beautiful golden suit with a black cape over his shoulders. One of the designers raises a hand and gestures for him to stop. Cardan is led to the dressing room where he is prepped for about thirty minutes. 

At that time, I introduced myself to the designers as Cardan's assistant. They acknowledge my presence but don't say too much to me. More people file into the room. Seamstresses with measuring tapes around their necks, hairstylists, production people, even some prepped models that are waiting for their turn.

I take out my phone and slide the brightness to the lowest. There are so many people here. So _many_. To answer my question, I go to Google and search for _Insmire Couture_ and why it's so popular. 

My eyes bulge at what I find. Insmire Couture is one of the most famous luxury brands in the world. Up there with Aristocrate, Cadeau, Palace Fashion, and a few others. All featured in Elfhame fashion magazine.

And Cardan wanted to cancel his appointment? What's wrong with him?

I shove my phone back into my pocket when someone tells me to put it away and not take pictures. All the whispers fall into silence when Cardan emerges clad in a princely outfit. A midnight blue doublet stamped with jewels and gems. Black knee-breeches, golden shoes that look like they're made of leaves, and atop his brow lies a golden crown of leaves and branches. Over his shoulders is a long, dark, glittering cloak made of satin. It flows behind him as he passes through the makeshift walkway. 

Everyone's eyes are glued to him as if they're caught in a spell. The three designers nod approvingly and whisper to each other. I ready my pen and go over to the calendar section in my planner. 

Cardan does it again with four different yet similar princely outfits and crowns. After the fourth, the three designers rush to him. I follow suit to hear their news. 

"You are our star," says one, a short man with bright white hair. "You embody our brand to the fullest. The beautiful, mysterious, and charming young man that you are. Hilmar Prim O'Hara, the great editor-in-chief of Elfhame, knew what she was talking about when she put you on her front cover. You will walk for us in our show during the Paris Fashion Week."

Cardan beams. "I would be honored to walk for Insmire Couture."

The other designer, a tall woman with a bald head tattooed with dewdrops, chimes in. " _We_ are honored. After all, you are the Prince of Elfhame. And rightfully so. Thank you so much."

Everyone claps around us and I am bewildered by the scene. I'm reminded for the first time by how out of place I am in this new world of fashion and beauty. I bit more than I could chew and it's true. 

I'm choking, searching for a glass of water, but I am standing in an abyss of silks and jewels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a fun but complicated chapter to write. I'm not the best at fashion descriptions, but I hope you get the picture. The next update might come in two weeks, considering it is almost Christmas and New Years' Eve. Happy holidays everyone! :)


	5. Google Search: Who is Cardan Greenbriar?

Rodeo Drive is exactly how it is depicted in the movies. Palm trees line the streets everywhere I turn. At Two Rodeo Drive, the cobblestones enhance the look of the European style buildings. Elegant lamp posts with flowers lead the way into the street. High-end boutiques open with people taking photos in the front or looking through the clothes.

I forget I'm supposed to lead the way. Cardan sighs and stops.

"Where are we going?"

I turn to him. "Oh, we're going to Penthouse." I take out my phone and open the Maps. Cardan narrows his eyes at me.

"You don't know where it is, don't you?" He crosses his arms and shrugs his shoulders. "We have only been walking around."

"Look, it's my first time here," I say, looking up at him. "There are so many distractions. The people, the architecture, the clothes. It reminds me of Disneyland."

He snorts. "You're not a sightseer. You're my assistant. And Penthouse is on the other side. You should've come here and gotten yourself acquainted with the stores and salespersons."

I blush. "I apologize." _But I can't drive_. "I will do my best next time."

I can tell he's rolling his eyes because he sighs heavily. I look down at my Maps and see that he is right. It's only a five-minute walk in the other direction.

On the walk there, a light sweat starts over my brow. It's not because of the warm weather but another pang of self-doubt. I should've come to Rodeo Drive first. I'm lost and I don't think I know what I'm doing.

I chose Penthouse because it sold a variety of clothing, from swimwear to outerwear. Last night, I made an account and saved clothing that I think would suit Cardan to my cart. Then I printed my shopping cart to check off by hand. It's rusty. I know it is but it's only been less than a week when such a job sprung on me.

The Penthouse is a four-story building with opened balconies inside. Pillars hold up the structure, a waterfall glittering with coins is located in the center above an ocular. People stroll by holding papered bags.

The menswear is on the third floor, so we take the stairs even though the elevators are in service. But I'm growing tired and I want this session to be over soon.

My stomach growls but the sound of the waterfall drones it out. I reach for the first thing I see. A cerulean mesh sweater. Cardan groans.

"Atrocious!"

"Okay, not that."

My underarms are hot with sweat the more I reach for items that he rejects. Too baggy, too atrocious, too "not me." From what I've seen in his closet is dark clothing.

The worst I can do is decide to take him to Hot Topic as a last resort.

As he goes into the dressing room to try more pants, I get on my phone and look up photos of Cardan out and about. Mostly black silky shirts that part slightly to show his chest. I guess I could buy more of that in different colors.

I put my phone down when Cardan comes out in leather pants.

"I sort of like this one," he says, looking down at himself.

I nod. "I think it looks cool on you. Is it a good fit?"

He lifts his head. "It is. Let's take two pairs." He withdraws to the fitting room and I go ahead to the clothing rack. Just as a black motorcycle leather jacket catches my eye, I notice something else.

Near the balcony, three suspicious men are looking in my direction. Straps hang around their necks, leading to bags. I narrow my eyes at them and they turn away.

"What are you looking at?"

I flinch and whirl around. Cardan raises a brow. I shake my head.

"Nothing, let's check out." We head for the line and I pay items worth up to $300. We move down the stairs to the second floor where I see more men observing us.

Inside a jewelry room, I suggest Cardan dangling earrings. I'm lucky he has his ears pierced. Stars and moons, flowers, and swords. These earrings make a nice fashionable statement. Cuffs, too.

Cardan turns to me and leans against the glass counter. "You're not as good at choosing clothes as you are choosing jewelry. I look at you now and you're not wearing any sparkly items."

I look from the rings to his gold-rimmed black eyes. My heart drops so quickly I almost gasp. The image of him in his princely outfit and a crown atop his head is clear in my head. It was easy looking at him when he was wearing sunglasses or when he was striding ahead of me, nagging me almost.

But here, with him staring into my eyes, leaning down to my eye level, an unexplainable fear washes over me. My heart is racing again and it feels like I have fallen off a cliff.

I shrug my shoulders and gaze down at the rings. "I forget to wear them, that's all."

"Or you don't have some." He straightens himself out and sighs. "I wonder how you'll be paying for this. This is all worth more than what I'm sure you have. I have started to pay you generously as my assistant but even that is not enough to cover for the items."

"I was thinking of using your card," I say, blushing. "You want these items?"

"You're fortunate enough that I am still in good spirits." He gestures for one of the employees. A man sees us and moves. "And yes I want these items. Didn't I say that I like them?"

"In your way, I guess."

Three pairs of earrings and four rings round up to at least $4,000. He makes me carry all the bags until we pause at the start of the waterfall. More people with backpacks and camera straps around their necks block the entrance.

"Great," Cardan grumbles. "Come on. Keep walking."

He puts on his sunglasses and makes a beeline for the entrance. The flashing begins. All around Cardan the paparazzi bombard him with snaps. Outside they're even more abrasive. Their shouts hurt my ears as I trail behind him.

"Hey Cardan, is it true that your father Eldred paid your mother hush-money? What are they hiding?"

"Where are you living now? We hear that you moved out of your brother's estate. What's the drama?"

"Any chance that you're in an affair?"

And Cardan stays quiet throughout the drilling. But as we get close to the car, he tells them to move aside. I pick up my speed and try to use my body as a shield.

"Is this your girlfriend?" At that question, the flashing turns to me and I cover my face.

"Please, everyone, I'm his assistant," I say. "Give us some space. We're on a tight schedule. Move along." But they ignore me.

Once at the car, Cardan hops in and I follow. The paparazzi take pictures of our departure.

"How on earth did they find me?" Cardan asks. "Someone must've tipped them."

"Maybe," I say, shelving the bags around my leg area. "But Rodeo Drive is a hotspot for celebrities. They must have gotten lucky with you."

"Did you not look at the entrance? They were waiting for me. Asking me all those stupid questions. If they want badly the answers, then why don't they stalk my family members and ask _them_ the questions?!"

I open my mouth to answer but he cuts me off.

"I could've been anywhere but they were at Penthouse. Where, coincidentally, we were, too." He locks his jaw. "Tell me you didn't tip them. Tell me!"

I stare at him incredulously. "How could I? Why would I do such a thing that would make my job harder?"

He shakes his head and turns to the window with a frown. "I wouldn't be surprised if you want your five minutes of fame. People will be wondering if you really _are_ my girlfriend."

"But that's not true! I mean, surely it wouldn't be on the entertainment news, right?"

"I hope not. I'll be a laughing stock."

Ouch but I'm too distracted to even let the insult sting.

❁❁❁

After dinner, Vivi and Taryn relax on the couch while Oak and I sit on the carpet in front of the TV. The entertainment news is about to start and I'm trembling at the possibility that I would be revealed as the "mysterious girl" beside the Prince of Elfhame.

Oak throws his arms around me. "You smell good, Jude. Like flowers."

I smile and hug him to me. "Flowers? Are you sure?"

He nods, his eyes sparkling up at me. "You used to smell like paper."

Vivi bursts out laughing, and I swing around my heart racing. Taryn stares intently at her phone with a slight frown.

"You mean green tea, Oak? Jude used to drench white paper in green tea to achieve a parchment color." She laughs again. "Very creative, Jude. The children at the art studio love making them and drawing on them."

My heart flutters. "Really? That's nice to hear."

" _What?!_ " Exclaims Taryn, her brown eyes wide. She looks down at me and I bite my lip nervously.

This is it. She knows. I'm ruined. I trust Taryn with my life and secrets but sometimes she can't help but report some things to our father, Madoc. I don't know why she does it. Maybe it's because Madoc expects the best out of us and if we can't exceed his expectations of us, we would childishly bring the other down to make ourselves mighty.

I refrain from achieving such betrayal because I had nothing. And I still don't. I'm a fraud. Even if I had something important to me, I wouldn't tear my sisters down.

"A second season is confirmed for Star Bear!" She squeals excitedly and Vivi reaches for the remote control.

"That's nice, Taryn," Vivi says. "When is it coming out?" She changes the channel and stops at a reality show.

"I don't know. Maybe next year. They're barely casting new actors. There's a rumor that Caelia Greenbriar is starring. She's a great actress."

"Greenbriar?" I ask automatically.

Taryn nods. "Yes, one of the famous Greenbriars."

The night draws on and Oak falls asleep on my lap. I carry him to his bed and tuck him in. With Vivi watching a reality show that she enjoys, and Taryn seeking more news from her favorite franchise, I retreat to my room and close my door.

I talk a lot about messy rooms when my room is messy, too. This coming weekend I hope to clean it. I get on my computer and turn it on. While it loads, I take my planner out of my tote bag to register it to an online planner.

My computer opens up to a background of one of my favorite poems by Philip James Bailey, "A Fairy Tale."

> _Fighting by the Elle--King's side, there she the lord of fireland slew;_   
>  _All the hosts of fire were routed; crowned her queen the conquering crew;_   
>  _Back to fairyland she hasted; home her train in triumph drew._

I listen to slowed versions of my favorite songs while I record every little detail into a calendar. Photoshoots, filming, and even the Insmire Couture show during the Paris Fashion Week.

Fashion Week occurs twice a year along with New York, London, and Milan. The Paris one is mostly at the beginning of a year. The last week of February to the first week of March.

Which is in four months. Would I still be working for Cardan? It's the only future I see now. When the moment comes, I would tell my family that I'm going on a business retreat. It seems plausible to me.

There are no go-sees tomorrow. But I do need to accompany Cardan on a meeting at the agency, dry clean his new clothes, and make other appointments that are not relatable to his modeling career. I'm sure he wants me to do something else, so I'm going to clear the rest of my schedule. As if I had a choice.

I message him about tomorrow's meeting:

> 22:35 - _9 AM at Faerieland Modeling Agency with your agent._

I stretch my arms and yawn. It was a big day today. Even though I'm not a good shopper, I did get to his every go-see on time. The fact brings a smile on my face. But tomorrow is another test. Doing all his little errands.

I pick up my phone and see that he has not read it yet. It's 10:40 PM. I'm ready to sign off when I remember Taryn's favorite franchise _Star Bear_.

Caelia Greenbriar. I recall the questions the paparazzi asked Cardan about his family, the Greenbriars. With curiosity killing me, I promise myself ten minutes to lurk.

I type in Greenbriar in the search bar and so many questions come up.

> \- Who is Eldred Greenbriar?  
> \- Who is Cardan Greenbriar's mother?  
> \- Is it true that Eldred and Asha are divorcing?

I click on Cardan's name and different articles jump out. Some speak about his modeling career but most of them speculate rumors.

> \- Is Cardan broke?  
> \- Is he removed from the family?  
> \- Did his brother kick him out of his home estate?  
> \- Have his half-siblings spoken to him since Cardan left?

The ten minutes are up and I shut down my computer. As I take a quick shower, I wonder about his family. Are the rumors true? Cardan does seem removed from his family. Living in Koreatown and not in West Hollywood. Why?

The question hounds me even as I'm in bed. But it doesn't keep me awake. It's not my problem. All I have to do is keep up with him or rather have him follow my orders. But it won't be easy.

I reach to turn off my lamplight when I remember that I stole a small letter from Cardan's book. Like a bunny, I jump off my bed and grab my sweater and pull out the letter from its pocket.

Written in a beautiful script, it's his name. The letter has been opened before. There are ink smudges and bent edges. If I read this, I would lose his trust. But then he would never know. Gingerly, I open it and read:

> _Dearest Cardan,_   
>  _You have broken my heart again and I can't let you do it again. You have embarrassed me an astounding amount of times. I'm starting to think you do it to spite me. I've seen pictures of you drunk, drugged, and underdressed. I can't recognize you that way and I will not see you that way. Your face is all you got and you'll ruin it if you continue to go down this path. I will not let you break my heart. If I had no heart, I would've let you ruin yourself without warning you. You are a Greenbriar. Until you're nothing._   
>  _X - Eldred Greenbriar_

A letter from his father? I don't know how long ago this letter was written but it seems to me Cardan is still disappointing his family. One rumor is clear, however, that he did remove himself from the family.

Why would he go to such lengths to embarrass them? To be cruel to everyone around him? I fall asleep as I try to figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update! Before this year ends, I wanted to post as an end-of-the-year gift. I managed to write two more chapters, this included, after all during Christmas week. Ideas keep coming! Also, I realized the chapters are kind of short. Around ten pages each, so starting with the sixth chapter, I'll try to write them longer. I somehow have a habit of writing ten-paged chapters. Might be constantly writing university essays that built the habit up.
> 
> Anyway, Happy New Year everyone! See you in 2021 :)


	6. A Date?

There is a gray overcast this morning. I hope it's not a harbinger of a bad day. I run to the front of the apartment where Cardan waits for me like yesterday. Once he spots me, he raises a brow. 

"Why are you always running? Do you park your car far?"

I shake my head. "No, I don't—" I stop myself. No one knows, not even Locke, that I can't drive. I'm surprised Locke didn't ask me about it. But if I tell the truth, would I lose this job?

It's a high possibility. 

"Yes," I lie. "Across the street."

Cardan proceeds to his car and opens his door. I follow after him and a funny thought comes to mind. This is Cardan's second time waiting for me outside instead of waiting in his car. Could he be anxious to see me again? Is he making sure I arrive safely? But then he smells of smoke.

I press my lips. The stench is not as bad but it insinuates that he _does_ smoke. And I don't know about anyone but it doesn't leave a great impression. After the meeting, I mean to speak to him about it.

The driver leads us out to the main streets.

"You were lucky," he says calmly, looking out the window at the people catching the bus.

"How?"

"There were no speculations about your connection to me."

I raise a brow. "You were worried?"

"Of course I was!" He shoves his curls from his face. "I said I would be a laughing stock. A romance with my assistant? How low do they think I could get?"

I scoff. "You were kicked out of your brother's mansion. I suppose they would assume anything."

Cardan turns to me, his eyes flashing with anger. "I was _not_ 'kicked out.' I decided to move out. As my assistant, I suggest you don't believe everything that you read about me."

"That's fair." The smell of smoke seeps into my nostrils. We might as well have this discussion now. "And as your assistant, I suggest you stop smoking. It's not good for your health and it's not good for your presentation."

"You can't tell me that. It's not up to you."

"At least don't do it before important events or appointments. You reek of it."

He closes his eyes. "And you tell me now?" His knee bounces and he breathes in. "Look, what I do in my free time is not of your concern. If I want to smoke, I will. If I want to drink, I will. It's how I—" He pauses.

"How you _what?_ "

He exhales and furrows his brows. When he opens his eyes, he orders the driver to stop. The car pulls to a curbside immediately and Cardan slips away and slams the door behind him. I turn to the rearview mirror. 

"What was that about?"

The driver shrugs his shoulders. "I was not listening, miss. It's my job to only drive him anywhere he wants to go."

"We're going to be late. Should I go out to him?"

"It's better to leave him be. Sometimes he comes back more relaxed than he was when he left." 

He doesn't return until half an hour later, leaving us no choice but to arrive at the meeting fifteen minutes late. Sarah Driver, Cardan's agent, and Kelsey Woodford, the president of Faerieland Modeling Agency, and few other partners narrow their eyes at me. Probably thinking I have poor time management.

Cardan sweeps through the room with an air of arrogance and pride. The mood seems to shift from unease to resolution. Everyone acknowledges him with a small bow. And he smirks. Like he knows they'll all be lost without him.

He sits down while I take a chair behind him near the door. The rest don't mind me as they begin to extol Cardan's beauty and talent. Then they move onto what's really important. The Insmire Couture Fashion Show during the Paris Fashion Week. 

I take out a pen and a notebook and jot down my notes. There will be interviews, training, directing, and dieting. They recommend that he does not accept anymore offers to keep his schedule clear for February. Which is fine anyway. He booked three jobs yesterday. But he also booked two more with his agent when I was not his assistant. 

Five jobs. All of them scattered but not too close to February. It seems easy but then there are all his other medical and non-medical appointments, and errands. 

By the end of the meeting, my hand is cramped and my skin is hot with sweat. Cardan stands up and shakes hands with Kelsey Woodford.

"A pleasure meeting you again, Ms. Woodford," he says graciously. 

She grins. "You're as desirable as I thought you to be, Greenbriar. Great work."

I stand, my feet buzzing with sleep, and sigh. Cardan doesn't spare me a look as he passes me and exits the room. I chase after him and try not to yelp from the sleep tickles. 

At the front of the agency, he spins around and stops me.

"No, no," he says, his expression cold. "You will be on your own now. I'm going to return home while you complete what I have laid out for you."

I frown. "And what is that?"

"You'll go pick up my clothes from the dry cleaners, make appointments with my doctor, go to a crafts store, and buy me a few bottles of acrylic paint."

"Is that all?" I might as well add _Your Highness_ at the end. 

He takes a step toward me and smirks. "A pack of cigarettes. That's all." And he retreats to his car and it drives off, leaving me so far from home and my familiar streets. 

_Wait a second_ , I think, _I told him I parked my car near his apartment._

I don't even have one but even so how dare he leave me far from it? How dare he not bring me back with him?! Fuck him. Damn him. Curse _him_. 

I know my dream is on the line but so are his dreams. He can't lose me so easily and he knows it. But what he does not expect is my stubbornness and I will not go down without a fight. 

Holding back tears and heavy emotions, I start my errands. Four hours pass and I owe everything to ride-sharing apps. Imagine if I biked everywhere? I'll be a sweating mess. 

After I gathered his clothes and bought his expensive paint, I dropped them off at his place, where he currently was not present. And I instinctively "forgot" to buy him his cigarettes. 

I do his doctor appointments in the comfort of my bedroom, which is still messy. The latest Deftones album plays in the background through my Bluetooth speaker. My stomach growls after I'm done, so I head downstairs to the kitchen. 

Oriana jumps at the sight of me. "Jude! You're here early. Everything's all right?"

I nod. "Yes, I managed to finish my work early today. Are there any leftovers?"

"No, I'm afraid not. But there are frozen foods you can heat up."

"Great!" Inside the freezer, I snatch a bag of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and serve the amount I want into a Tupperware. 

"So," Oriana says, moving a strand of white hair behind her ear. "I made a reservation at the Caviar Star to celebrate your first week working at your new job."

My heart drops and I twist around to her. She's smiling, seeming complacent about it.

"Oh? Sorry, I ruined the surprise."

"It wasn't a surprise," she says softly. "After your father arrives, we'll be ready to go. Wear something nice. The restaurant is grand."

I nod. "Then I'll eat the chicken nuggets for now. Thanks, Mother."

She nods and I go ahead and heat my snack. Upstairs in my room, I hurry and eat my food. My room is a mess and I'm pretty sure half of my clothes are wrinkled on the floor. My music still plays in the background.

I pick up my phone and my eyes widen. A text message from Cardan.

> 17:24 - _Where are my cigarettes? Did you forget?_

I roll my eyes and write back:

> 17: 30 - _It must've slipped my mind. At least I got your paint. They were expensive, you know._

I raise the volume and leave my phone. I'm busy. With my curtains drawn apart, I see the dust particles floating about. I open my windows and proceed to pick up my clothes and place them on my bed.

A pop song comes up and I dance to the beat as I wipe my furniture free of dust. Little by little my room starts to look less cluttered and more pleasant. When I return to my phone, I see another message from him.

It reads:

> 17:41 - _Now that I think about it, I doubt that you've forgotten. You made a point of it this morning. I need you to buy me a pack before the day's over._

I frown. There's no way I'm buying him a pack. If he wants one so badly, he could go get it himself. I head to my bathroom and prepare a bath of dried rose petals and soapy pearls. 

I undress and enjoy my bath while I write a few poems in my small journal. While FKA twigs sings about soulmates, I write about enemies. Kindred enemies who swear to make each other suffer. 

My phone rings and I pick it up without looking. 

"Hello?"

"You. Where are you?"

"Huh? Who's this?" I ask. 

"Are you drunk? It's me, Cardan."

When I look at my screen, I am staring into the eyes of Cardan Greenbriar. He stops talking when he realizes I'm in a bath. He looks as surprised as I am. The horror of this unfortunate incident hits me.

He FaceTime me. And I accepted. 

I scream and hang up.

Now I'm not going to buy his cigarettes. I wash and try to not look at my phone. But it's hard. I keep looking back. At least it's a Friday and he doesn't have commitments during the weekends as of now.

But what about Monday? How will I face him? I don't think anything showed. My face is stark red when I wipe the mirror with my hand. Eyes wide, my lips parted, my ears pink. I look like a fool.

I choose a navy blue sheath dress made of velvet. Downstairs, I hear my sisters arrive. The sun is descending slowly, leaving the sky a blueish color. I curl my hair and style it into a half up and half down. I don't usually put a lot of makeup on but today is special.

I color my lips a burgundy color, shape my eyebrows, draw on eyeliner, and brush my eyelashes upward with mascara. Moisturizing my arms and legs, I search for my black heeled boots.

I admire myself in the mirror and I look completely transformed. My walnut color brown eyes are soft but bright. My auburn hair the same way. I pick up my phone and see no new messages from Cardan.

Good. 

I leave my room with a black jacket on my arm and go downstairs where Oak is waiting in the living room watching _Monster House_. He turns to me and grins from ear to ear.

"Jude, you look so pretty!"

"Are you coming with us?" I ask and sit next to him on the couch. 

He shakes his head disappointingly. "No. Mom says grownups only. And it's past my bedtime. But I wanted to come!"

I hug him. "I'll tell you what. I can bring you a piece of dessert. We can celebrate together the next morning."

"No, not a piece! A full dessert!" He giggles and I laugh with him. 

Taryn runs down the stairs in a lace sheath dress and her short hair straightened. She wears white heels that complement the light blue of her dress and makeup. When she spots me, she laughs.

"Twinning again!" 

"You look pretty, Taryn."

She does a small spin for us and Oak claps. It sometimes scares me how much we look alike but are completely different people. Taryn and I don't share many interests. She likes more feminine things, enjoys Kpop music, and action movies. I like feminine things, too, but my style is more grunge, I enjoy rock music and romantic movies. 

Vivi comes down in a black jumpsuit with a sleeveless bodice and a bustier style top and sheer mesh sides that hug her waist. Her pixie cut bangs brushed to the side, her makeup prettily done. 

"I look great, do I?" She chuckles then gets on her phone. "Hi, Heather, my love. No, no, I'll send you a picture. We're about to leave."

Oriana comes down wearing a pink silk dress. Her pink earrings dangle and I'm reminded of Cardan. He saw me in my bath. In my bath! Where I was naked! I stomp the memory out for now when the babysitter finally arrives.

Madoc comes down in a black suit and we all turn to him obediently. He kisses his wife before kissing us on the cheek. When kisses me, he says, "Congratulations, Jude."

I nod. "Thank you."

Oriana finishes talking with the babysitter and she kisses Oak goodbye. He hugs us all and we leave to Madoc's black Audi. The space inside immediately smells of our perfumes. 

It's funny that no matter how grown we are we would always sit in the back while our parents sit at the front. I'm sad Oak is not here but it's only for this dinner. 

The Caviar Star is located near Bel Air and Westwood. Or, in a straightforward sense, near Universal Studios Hollywood. I've been there a few times every summer but now I don't think I can go often because of my new job.

A valet attendant takes the Audi away while we are led to our seats. All the tables are covered with white cloths and adorned with beautiful floral centerpieces with lights in them. 

A crystal chandelier hangs in the center of a dancefloor. It seems like I have stepped into a mansion. A string quartet adds to the splendor of the place. We sit down near a window and pull off our coats and jackets. 

Some people from other tables stare at us, particularly at me and Taryn. As an identical twin, I am used to it. But I won't deny that it sometimes gets annoying. It's so obvious that we _are_ twins. 

After we ordered our food and drinks, Madoc clears his throat and folds his hands with his elbows on the table. 

"I would like to start with a toast to Jude, my youngest daughter next to Taryn of course." We reach for our available glasses of water. "Jude, I am proud of you for choosing to safeguard your future. You showed bravery and determination, which is admirable. I know you wanted to be a poet. I know but we must all make decisions. So, Jude, I toast that you continue to move ahead. To your future."

We tap our glasses at each other and we drink. Our ordered drinks arrive and we talk amongst ourselves about how grand the place is. Some couples dance on the dance floor, and I watch them while a romantic song plays. 

My mind goes to Cardan again. At his surprised expression when he saw me. His eyebrows relaxed, his lips parted and his eyes widened. As if he saw something obscene. As if I was disgusting. 

Our meals are set before us and while I chew my food, I contemplate texting or calling him and apologizing. I don't know what for but I feel uneasy. I take out my phone from my pocket and see no new messages. 

Vivi turns to me. "Expecting a call?"

"Huh? No. Why? I'm only checking the time."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Sure," she drawls with a sneaky look in her eye. "You look a bit nervous. What's wrong?"

I laugh and shake my head. "Nothing's wrong," I lie. 

"Right," she says and returns to eating her food. 

I stand up. "I'll be right back. I need to go to the bathroom."

They nod and carry on with their conversation. I snatch my phone and hurry across the dancefloor. I'm not going to the bathroom. I'm going to call Cardan outside and explain myself. I can't take it anymore.

It's cold outside without my jacket. I open my contact list when I suddenly hear my name. 

"Jude!" 

I pick up my head and turn. My eyes widen with surprise. Locke. He wears a typical black suit and his reddish russet hair is brushed back handsomely. He smiles and waves at me.

I put my phone down. "Hi, hello. What are you doing here?"

He steps in front of me. "I should be asking _you_ that."

I smile. "My family is having a celebratory dinner for me. My first week at my job is a feat."

"No thanks to me, of course." He grins and blushes. "You look beautiful tonight. I almost didn't recognize you."

I blush, too, and clear my throat. "Thank you. It's great to see you again."

"How was your first week working for Cardan?" He crosses his arms and tilts his head. "Difficult?"

"You can say that," I say. "It's stressful and he's not easy to control. He's just as I expected. Rude and confusing. I thought you would be with him at another party."

He shakes his head. "He's with Nicasia right now. I gave the place for themselves."

"Oh."

He raises a brow. "What?" I shake my head and he chuckles. "Come on, tell me."

"Nicasia is your girlfriend," I say, my face hot. "But she sleeps with Cardan as if they're lovers. As her boyfriend, you're comfortable with that?"

He shrugs his shoulders and smiles. "Nicasia and I have an open relationship. We trust each other and we come back to each other eventually. She's with Cardan and I'm okay with that. It's not like she goes behind my back or I go behind her back and see other people. We tell each other all about it."

"I'm sorry," I say, shaking my head and clutching my phone. "I didn't mean to pry but this is all new to me."

"Don't worry about it." I nod and bite my bottom lip. Locke grins and steps closer. "Now that I have you here, may I ask something of you?"

"What is it?" My heart is practically jumping out of its cage. He's so close, I can see the true brown color of his tawny eyes. 

"Halloween is next week. Would you like to join me this Sunday to pick up pumpkins?"

I blush. "I can't. Sunday nights are reserved for open mic readings at The Garden café."

He feigns receiving a stake to his heart. "Oh, you wound me, Jude. Next time give me a warning."

I laugh. "I'm sorry. Maybe next time."

"How about I attend this Sunday? I would love to hear your poems. Just because I can't pass on your name to Nightfell Agency doesn't mean I'm no longer interested in your poems."

"Really?" I gasp. "You'll do that for me?"

"Yes, I like you." He says it so easily it confuses me almost. Like me as a person or like me in _that_ way? 

Pink pinches my cheeks and I bite my bottom lip again. "You know what? I changed my mind. Open mic isn't until eight PM."

Locke's smile grows. "Perfect. Then I'll see you Sunday." He tips his head and leaves me but not before giving me a wink. 

I smile and watch him receive his car keys from the valet attendant and enter his vehicle. The fluttering feeling in my belly makes me forget why I came out here. He seems so much nicer than Cardan. So much more understanding. How can he even stand him? I guess I'll ask him this Sunday.

I retire inside the restaurant and enjoy the rest of the dinner. Sparkling drinks and delicious dishes I could only possibly eat once in a lifetime. 

❁❁❁

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

Saturday morning I'm up writing new poems on my typewriter. Loud music serves as background noise because I know Oriana hates the clickety sound. After sharing my cake with Oak, I had a splash of inspiration.

Two hours go by uninterrupted and I manage to come up with ten poems. About mermaids, castles, fairies. Tragedy. Treachery. Betrayal. Heartache. I go downstairs for a drink of water where I find Vivi speaking on the phone with Heather. She sees me and inches her phone from her ear.

"Jude! You're here! Writing up a storm?"

I nod. "Yup!"

"I'm glad. Hey, you want to go to the mall with me? Taryn took Oriana and Oak to the park. Madoc is elsewhere. It's just you and me."

"That's fine. I'll go get ready."

"Great! Heather's coming, too."

"The more the merrier!"

I speed back into my room and dress into a black cropped top with thin over-the-shoulder sleeves and a plaid dark green pleated skirt. I tie my hair in a casual half up and half down style with ringlets to the sides. 

Heather arrives at the front of the house and kisses Vivi. Heather is much smaller than Vivi. She has faded pink hair and brown skin. She went to community college and met Vivi during a party. When they saw each other, it was history. The art studio would not have been real were it not for Heather's love for art.

She hugs me next. "Jude, it's great to see you again. I hear you got a job. Congratulations!"

"Thank you, Heather. But it's not as enjoyable as yours is I bet," I say.

She swings an arm around my shoulder. "Oh running the studio has its ups and downs but Vee always brings a smile on my face."

"Good."

We hop in Heather's car and visit the nearest Westfield mall. Now that I have a job I have money of my own to buy anything that I want. Like clothes and accessories. I know tomorrow it's not a date but pumpkin picking does feel like it.

Los Angeles's October still feels warm but not so much at night. While Heather and Vivi look at jackets, I buy cozy sweaters and new jeans. Then more makeup and skincare. 

I'm looking at lipsticks when I hear my name. I look up and my heart drops. Walking toward me is Nicasia, Locke's girlfriend, and Cardan's lover. Her cerulean hair is styled in an updo and she's dressed in a cowl neck slip dress and white sneakers. 

"You're Jude, right? You were the one who stopped by the apartment?" She stops in front of me and smiles.

I blink and clear my throat. "Yes, that's me. You're Nicasia Mar."

"Precisely." Her blueish eyes go down at my attire. "You look different. I didn't imagine you to be a grunge kind of girl."

"Neither did I," I admit. "But the style grew on me."

"I see, I see." She nods slowly then she gasps. "Oh! I've forgotten! Locke told me he's seeing you tomorrow. Are you excited?"

My face heats. "I am."

She grins. "That's great to hear. Locke is interested in you, you know."

"He is?" Is this real? Locke does seem like a nice person but he's so handsome, why would he be interested in me when he has someone as beautiful as Nicasia?

She nods, seeming excited and sincere. "Of course. If you're worried that I'm jealous, I am not. If he chooses to pursue you, I approve."

"You think he might ask me out?"

"It seems that way. It depends on how well tomorrow goes. But don't worry too much. Cardan already knows about it."

Huh? What does this have to do with him?

"I'm on my way now. Good luck." And she's off with a strut. 

My heart is racing and chasing. Locke is planning to ask me out? So fast? In high school, I never really dated anyone. In college, however, someone built up a crush on me. A study partner for one of my classes. And he confessed to me and asked me out. Never really having a boyfriend, I accepted to try it out. But I never felt the same. He was a friend and I was scared of falling in love. He noticed that I've been distant and we "broke up" a month later. 

I don't regret it but now that I know that tomorrow _is_ a date, my inexperience in relationships sort of scares me. Am I ready this time? Do I know what I'm possibly getting myself into?

Vivi and Heather find me lost in thought. 

"Anything interesting there?" Vivi asks, slurping a Boba milk tea. 

I shake my head. "No. Let's go somewhere else."

After mindlessly looking at clothes, we sit down at the food court. Vivi reveals what she bought. A pair of earrings, a new dress, and more comics. Vivi and Heather flip through them, almost entirely in their world. 

I look across the food court, at all the people chatting and shopping about. My eyes stop at every couple I see. A girl giggles with a boy, her cheeks blushing as she playfully nudges his shoulder with hers. The boy grins at her, grabbing her hand as they share their food. It makes me sick to my stomach.

How does one function in a relationship? What should one, as the girlfriend, do now that she has a boyfriend? Go out and spend time together? Hold hands? Tell each other more about one another? _Kiss even?_ I can't imagine myself doing any of those things. 

And yet I yearn for some kind of romantic affection. But I'm scared. Locke is planning to ask me out. Am I interested in him? I don't know. But I am curious about what kind of relationship I could have with him. Now that I'm out of college, what sort of relationship am I expected to have?

"Jude, look, look! Isn't it cool?" Vivi shows me a page of the comic, at a drawing of a handsome man storming in a field of diamonds. "Lord Bowers is actually the hero, not the villain of this magical world. Everything he's done well he's done in secret. Isn't it nice when people surprise you?" 

She catches my expression and frowns. "Are you okay? You look distracted. Work troubling you?"

Heather looks up from the comic and smiles sympathetically at me. "I'm sure you're doing a great job, Jude."

"Thank you, Heather. Although it isn't my job that is troubling me."

"Oh? So what is it? Anything we can help?" she asks.

I look up at Vivi and smile sheepishly. "Don't tell anyone. You two are the only ones that will ever know. But I have a date."

Heather claps. "Ooo Jude Duarte, you pretty thing. Tell me, are they cute?"

Vivi laughs and leans in to kiss Heather on the cheek. 

I nod. "Yes. He is. But I'm nervous. Vivi knows about my lack of _experience_ and I have no idea how to go about tomorrow."

" _Tomorrow?_ " both Vivi and Heather say.

I cover my face with both hands. "I'm nervous!"

Vivi reaches for me and pulls one hand away from my face while Heather does the same. 

"Don't worry, we'll help you," Vivi says, smiling at me. "I'll keep your secret."

I don't tell them the whole truth. How I met him, who he is exactly, and what he is affiliated with. Instead, I tell them he's someone in my department, a partner of sorts, and he wants to see me out of work. That's all.

Vivi and Heather rush me around clothing stores and suggest tons of fancy and scandalous regalia. Silk slip dresses, mini skirts, and dresses, shorts, and cardigans. I'm reminded of my job. And I'm reminded of Cardan.

He saw me in my bath. He saw me and I don't know what else he saw. 

As much as I think about Locke and our date, that night, I dream about Cardan. Of his dark gold-rimmed eyes tracing every inch of my body and I don't want him to ever look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! It took longer than expected as I wrote this chapter a week ago or so. Share some love :)


	7. Disappointed Pumpkins

Vivi helps me escape the house unseen the next morning. Luckily, Locke doesn't come out to pick me up. He waits for me in the car.

"Good morning," he says and flashes me a grin, and my insides flip. "You look …" His eyes go down my attire. A floral, soft pink mini dress with short puffed sleeves under a denim jacket. "Cute." 

I don't know if "cute" is a compliment from him considering his muted reaction. We drive away from my house's front and I'm relieved. 

Oriana is still sleeping while Madoc is in his office doing I don't know what. Taryn is still in bed, too, and so is Oak but he’s watching the morning cartoons. Vivi will tell them that I’m spending time with Heather. I didn’t make any lasting relationships in high school or college. They were people I only talk to, not spend time with. 

I don’t know why it’s so hard for me but I can’t form friendships and keep them at the same time. But Locke is actually doing the work for me, asking me out and wanting to hear my poems. All I can do is follow and if he asks me out officially, then I might say, “Sure, why not?”

“Have you ever gone pumpkin picking?” he asks, glancing at me.

I shake my head. “The Home Depot ones don’t count, do they?”

Locke laughs. “Oh, you sad poor soul. No, we’re going to a field, away from buildings and city life.”

“I’m betting you get these pumpkins from there for your restaurant, right?”

“The best of the best. But these will not be for eating but carving. We will carve them there.” He smiles at me and I blush.

“I’m excited,” I say, trying to calm the trembling of my hands.

An hour passes when we arrive at the pumpkin farm somewhere in Santa Rosa Valley. Locke was right. It was a field. Farm animals are penned in one direction for petting while a small shop in the other sells organic fruits and produce. There’s a station for carving, too, and for eating. Families come and go, leading their children down the rows with a basket. There are young couples without children here as well, taking pictures with the giant pumpkins. 

“I’ll show you how it’s done, Jude Duarte.” He grabs my hand and leads me over to the pumpkin patch. The hay bedding underneath my feet crunch. The sun hits my face and I wish I brought a hat. He shows me which pumpkins are the best.

“See that one,” He points to a medium-sized one with dark patches, “that one is not going to last long. There are black spots everywhere.” He points to a lengthy one. “You would think they’re best because there’s more space to carve but they’re stringy inside.”

I smile. “So, which is the best pumpkin?”

“The ones that have a hollow sound when you tap it.” We pick two up with a hollow sound and sturdy exterior. At the pumpkin carving station, we sit across from each other. But considering it’s my first time carving a pumpkin, he swoops in behind me and teaches me.

“I’m shocked you have never carved one before! It’s a Halloween rite of passage, Jude!”

I giggle. “I know I know I know. But my mother is allergic to pumpkin and she rather we get plastic ones that are already carved.”

He leads my hand and cuts through the top. “That is unfortunate.” He takes out the smelly gunk inside and throws it in the trash. “After this is settled, stab through and work your way down the outline.”

He goes back to his and furrows his brows as he concentrates. I smile at him while I continue to throw the insides out. A little kid sits next to him and watches. Locke turns to him and offers to help with his pumpkin. My heart warms. The little kid reminds me of Oak. When I’m done here, I’m going to surprise him but I’m going to make sure he places it on his window sill outside.

“Do you always come here before Halloween?” I ask.

“I used to but Nicasia hates hay and walking on unsteady ground. She doesn’t like the mush of pumpkin carving.” He stops carving and looks up. “I hear that she saw you at a mall yesterday. How was that like?”

“You mean seeing her out in the wild? Surprising,” I admit. 

“Did she say anything to you?”

“We said hello.” And then we talked about how you might be interested in me. “She seemed surprised by my sense of style.”

He motions my attire with his knife. “Oh, this? I’m surprised, too. Not that it is bad but you look really sweet.”

I shake my head. “No, I thought this dress was nice but pink is certainly not on my usual palette. Maybe I’ll show you next time.”

He quirks a brow with a smirk. “Next time?”

My face pinks. “Yes, we’re friends, right?” The second I say it I regret it. But he only shakes his head and smiles. 

“I never take friends here,” he says. “It’s a nice place and all for friends to come with but it’s not Halloween yet. I wanted to see you again and I couldn’t wait.”

My heart is racing. I don’t even know what to say so I smile back at him and continue to carve out my pumpkin, as if I’m carving the pieces of a cage encasing my heart. My first date never made it so blatantly obvious that he was interested. It was why I was confused when he asked me out on a date. Partly why my feelings couldn’t develop. 

We leave the station with our pumpkins and pay, although Locke paid for both of us. While he orders food, I stay at a picnic table and look at my phone. A message from Cardan. Oh, God. 

What if it’s about what happened two days ago? Will he reprimand me? Humiliate me? Fire me? Firing me would be best. At least neither of us has to confront the bath incident and not risk embarrassment. But is he even embarrassed? Ashamed, maybe,  _ for myself _ . 

But when I look at the message, it’s anything but that and it only makes it even awkward for me.

> 11:23 -  _ I called my agent and changed some of my decisions. Get the details from Sarah. _

My face is beat red when Locke returns to the table with our food. I put my phone away and pretend that everything’s going well for me but inside I am screaming. Maybe he plans to confront me about it in person. 

And I will have no shield to hide my embarrassment.

❁❁❁

After eating our lunches, we leave for a Halloween shop. “You must come with us, Jude. There’s this massive Halloween party next Saturday. It’ll be fun.”’

“Will Cardan be there?” I ask, looking at the variety of costumes hanging on the rack. 

“Of course! He’s my friend,” he says. “I promise he won’t boss you around. I'll help you if he does.”  I nod. “Let me think about it.” I have to come up with an excuse. “But I’ll pick a costume. Just before I might not go doesn’t mean I won’t choose a costume. I go trick-or-treating with my young brother.”

“That’s adorable,” he says, glancing at me. “How old is your brother?” 

“Eight.”

“Then I take it you won't be able to join us this Saturday.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Who knows? Oak is still a kid. He falls asleep before ten PM. I might go.”

He beams. “Excellent.”

I choose two costumes. One for trick-or-treating and another for partying. A French fry and a killer bride with a high-low skirt. Oak and I like to go out as food. It’s funny. 

Before the night draws in, we eat dinner in an outdoor area. Oriana left me a message.

> 18:35 -  _ Jude, Vivi tells me you are spending time with Heather. Will you be able to come for dinner? I don’t want to cook more than I should. _

I answer:

> 18:39 -  _ No Mother. I am eating right now. I’ll be back after open-mic. _

Locke smiles. “Your parents worried about you?”

“A little bit but I always go out Sunday night. Don’t forget it’s open-mic tonight.”

“I haven’t forgotten. It’s nice that your parents are worried about you,” he says, folding his hands. “My mom passed away when I was younger and my dad was never around but at least he hasn’t forgotten about me.”

“Why would he forget about you?”

“Rich people’s families are all scattered. But we’re attached no matter how far apart we are. How? Well, money. We keep coming back for more so that we may never fall out of grace. I have my restaurant to fall back on but not many people are lucky.”

“Like who?”

His eyes blaze with mischief. “Speaking of families, tell me about your family.”

I brush aside the fact that he deflected. It’s fine he doesn’t want to tell me. But I wished he told me if he was uncomfortable. But now it’s my turn to feel uncomfortable. I never go into detail about my family’s lives. Because it is my own and I never let anyone too close. 

“I have three siblings. Four in total, including me. My mother works in the realm of flowers while my father deals with taxes.” It’s not  _ the  _ truth but it does intimidate people when I say it. But Locke doesn’t look afraid.

Our drinks arrive and I reach for mine when Locke, all of sudden, gasps. His eyes are on the missing tip of my finger and he looks afraid. I snatch my hand back and stand, unsure of what to do. When the schoolchildren saw it for the first time, they all laughed at me and joked that I was so hungry that I ate it. 

“That’s not the thumb dummy!” “Zombie!” “Freak!” “How would anyone put a ring on  _ that? _ ”

It sounds funny to me. And maybe it would’ve been funny now if I ever got over the shame of it. Images of my accident flashes before my eyes and I take off, running out of the restaurant, holding my left hand to myself as if I hurt it. 

“Damn it!” I curse. My face is all hot. I’m embarrassed. Why did I run out like that? Why did I run at all? He’s my ride. How will I get home? Maybe I can tell Oriana to cook more. Skip open-mic. My breathing comes out ragged.

“Jude!” I pivot on my heels and bring my hands to my cheeks. He seems amused but about what? Me? About what I did? He steps in front of me. “Are you okay? What happened?”

I groan. “An accident, a freak accident!”

“No, no.” He shakes his head and takes my hands in his earnestly. “I mean in the restaurant.”

“I was embarrassed.”

He quirks a brow. “Embarrassed?”

“You saw the stub of my finger. I thought you would laugh.”

He smiles but it looks sincere. “Was I supposed to?" I shrug my shoulders. "You thought I wouldn't want to be seen with you?” 

"Doesn't it freak you out?"

"Why would it? I think it's unique. How did it happen?"

My eyes water. "There was an accident," I whisper and swallow hard. "I'm still shaken by it. I can't say anymore."

"Hmm, you don't have to say anymore if you don't want to.” He chuckles softly. “I am not revolted by it. I am surprised, in fact, and I like surprises."

"Really? I don't understand."

"You're like a story and you're a page-turner already. How can I not spend more time with you?"

I blush, my heart sinking into warmth. "Thank you, Locke."

Without any more words, we retire to the restaurant and enjoy our dinner. Then we leave for The Garden cafe. A crowd waits in front of the stage, conversation filling the space. 

I spot a familiar face. Fand. A girl I met here in the cafe, who, after I read my poems out loud, walked up to me and told me how much she appreciated them. 

"Fand!" She looks over people's shoulders and heads and sees me. I wave her over and she comes running to me. 

Fand, the girl with the blue eyes the color of flower petals, embraces me and I feel much more like myself in this environment. 

Pearls, diamonds, makeup, silk, high brand names. It's not my world. Folded, scribbled pages, blunt pencils, the smell of coffee, and warm bread. That is my world. 

"Fand, meet Locke Fowler. It's his first time coming to an open-mic."

Her eyes widen. "No way!" She looks up at him and her face reddens. "You're going to love poetry night."

Locke flashes her a grin. "I bet I will. Thank you for welcoming me, Fand." 

I laugh at the stunned expression on Fand's face. When Locke looks the other way, she and I look at each other and she mouths, "He's cute!" 

I mouth back, "I know!"

He smiles at us and I'm incredibly happy that he is here. The lights dim and we take our seats on the floor, on chairs, or bean bags. Some stand in the background. 

Fand and I line up near the stage. We always volunteer to go up first. A boy reads his poems of loss and hope. After he's done, we snap our fingers. 

Fand steps up and she reads a poem about people who have never dreamed and therefore lack imagination. I clutch my poem typed on my page. I chose the one I am deeply proud of.

We snap fingers and Fand gives me a thumbs-up. I step up in front of the microphone and clear my throat. My eyes search for Locke's and I find them, I smile at him. He nods in encouragement. 

"Good evening, everyone. This poem is called 'Wisteria, You Crawl.'" I glance down at my words. " _ The lilac of you can fill a field, spreading over dead soil, overwhelming man-made stone. A century of wisdom, you hold beauty in your soft petals. You conceal, you love, you crawl. Hardstone, striking lights, brown smoke, I can still see you crawl for another lifetime until you become an ocean of purple petals. Conceal me. Love me. Crawl for me. The soil is yours to take. _ " I look up sheepishly and everyone snaps. "Thank you." I step off the stage and join Fand and Locke with a blush.

"Beautifully vivid, Jude," she says. 

"Yours, too. Your imagination is exquisite." 

Locke grins. "Well done, Jude. You're a natural."

"Thanks," I say. "But it took a lot of reading to get where I am. And professor's notes."

We listen to every single poem and snap our fingers. After the event's over and everyone starts peeling off for their homes, Locke and I walk down the street. 

"I had a nice day with you, Jude," he says softly. 

"Likewise."

It's coming. Am I ready for this? I don't know. Yes, I had a nice time with Locke. But fear doubles down on anything life-changing. Love is life-changing. It can either make my heart soar or break. And I'm scared of both. 

"I'm going to cut to the chase." He stops and we both turn to each other. "Jude, I am attracted to you. When I saw you at the cafe fighting with the waitress and pulled you away, I was struck with curiosity. You're not all like I expected you to be. You snapped at my kindness and I was hooked."

I blush, my blood rushing fast. 

"I know what Nicasia and you discussed. She and I tell each other everything, remember? She approved of you, which makes this decision a little bit easier. But there is the matter of Cardan."

"Cardan?"

"He is not in agreement with me pursuing you. Because our relationship must receive the consent of everyone involved, I can not pursue you. I expected to hear from him before this moment but he disapproves. And I can't break our values."

I nod, a bit confused. I wish I could tell him to break it off with Nicasia, which will then break it off with Cardan, but I can't. It's  _ his  _ relationship.

"Why does Cardan disapprove? Is it because I'm his inferior?"

"He thinks it's embarrassing for others to think he's indirectly involved with you. It's ridiculous but we must respect him." He steps even closer, our noses inches from touching. "I want to ask you something. Are you interested in me?"

I go scarlet. Never have I been asked if I liked a person upfront. It's so forward, my body reacts and tenses. 

"I think you're a good guy.” I suck in my bottom lip. “And I'll be lying if I said that I didn't like you."

He furrows his brows. "Are you interested in being in a polyamorous relationship?"

I bite my bottom lip. "Not … exactly. I-I never had a serious relationship before," I admit. "It's all so new to me and I would prefer if I had the attention of a sole lover. It makes me feel wanted."

Locke looks disappointed but he doesn't react harshly to my rejection. He steps away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I can't force you to try anything like I can't force Cardan to accept you." We stay silent. Cars drive down the wet asphalt, the sweeping sound of their tires filling the silence. 

"Thank you for inviting me to your poetry night. I appreciate it." His eyes glisten under the streetlights. 

Despite myself, I simper at him. "Thank you for coming, Locke. It meant a lot to me."

Locke nods, his face mixing with seemingly wonder and curiosity. We continue down the street and speak about anything but our disappointment.

❁❁❁

Vivi lies on my bed, holding up her chin with her hand while she bats her eyelashes at me. I am already showered and in my pajamas. 

"So, how was your date? Tell me all about it."

"I had a great time. We went pumpkin picking. Don't tell Oriana. I gave the pumpkin to Oak. We had quality time. He even paid for my food. Best of all, he went to the open-mic tonight."

"Wow! That's big. Are you planning to see him still? Does he like you?"

I smile. "Yes but …" My smile fades. "We decided it's not in our interests to date each other. We're so alike, we're like friends. So …"

Vivi hops off and hugs me. "Aw, Jude, don't be sad. There's always the next one. Who knows? He might change his mind. The future is not written in the stars. It's in our hands."

I nod. "Let's see then but thanks for covering me today. I owe you."

"Okay, well, goodnight Jude. I'll see you tomorrow of course. Sleep tight." She kisses my forehead and heads out.

I sigh and lie down on my bed. I pull out my messages and cringe as I remember that I needed to contact Ms. Driver about the changes. 

I should do the right thing and call her but I don't. Instead, I charge my phone, turn off my lamps, and pull the pillow over my head, and eventually fall asleep. 

In my dream, I see Cardan and I am punching him in the face. 

❁❁❁

I turn the key in the doorknob and step inside the apartment. Shame falls off me. I mean to confront him about the bath incident. 

"Cardan, a word?"

He sits on a stool in a loose white shirt and black pants, painting crystalline butterfly wings of blue and silver on a canvas. It looks good but I'm in no mood of giving compliments. 

He turns to me, his right ear adorned with a silver cuff of crawling leaves. 

"You're here."

I stop in front of him. "Yes, and there is a matter I want to bring to your attention."

"And that is?"

"On Friday night, you—"

"If you're going to ramble to me, I don't want to hear it." He focuses on his painting. "You're disrupting my session of tranquility. Have you spoken to my agent?"

I blink. He's ignoring what happened. I didn't expect  _ that _ . But why would he? It brought  _ me  _ embarrassment. Unless he's embarrassed, too. Why? It doesn't make sense. If he's ignoring it, then I should, too. 

Still, it was a mistake. Everything was. He could've possibly seen me naked. 

"Yes, I did," I say carefully. "I have updated your schedule. It appears to me that you accepted an offer to participate in a music video. Set to film in three days."

"Not just any music video." He faces me again, holding the paintbrush in between his fingers. "Do you know Selkies? She's a Grammy-nominated artist and she wanted  _ me  _ in a video for one of her top songs."

"Congratulations," I say dryly. 

"I only accept sincere congratulations. Being in a Selkies music video would bring me more popularity. At the end of fashion week, one model will be chosen as the World's Model. You won't get there if you don't broaden your horizons."

"What are the qualifications of a World's Model?"

He puts his paintbrush away on the easel and mutters under his breath. "I knew she would be ignorant of the fashion world."

"I can hear you."

"I know." He stands up and moves to a bookshelf crowded with magazines. He picks one up and tosses it to me. I flinch but manage to catch it. "Featured in there are all the World's Model from the 1920s to last year's." 

I sit down on the couch and cry out. "Ow!" I look at what I'm sitting on and it's a pair of earrings snagged on a lacy wired bra.

Cardan rushes to the couch and grabs it. "I thought I told Nicasia to pick her clothes up."

"You mean you do it on the couch?"

He looks offended. "How vulgar do you think I am? No, of course not. I put sheets on top of the plastic wraps first."

I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. I sit down anyway while Cardan throws the bra inside his room. I open the magazine and flip through the pages, stopping at some.

"The World's Model must dominate the industry and also make an extraordinary contribution to it," he says, joining me on the couch. "I like to categorize the qualifications in four questions. Who have you worked with? Who is wanting to work with you? How many editorials and advertising campaigns have you done in a year? Are you widely known to the public?"

"I'm sure you got that in the bag," I say. 

"I need more breakthroughs. I am the Prince of Elfhame but I want more. My face cannot go to waste."

I roll my eyes. "Is that all you worry about? Your beauty?"

"Yes," he says like it's obvious. "I'm sure you don't understand." He returns to his painting and sighs. "Go to my room and clean it. I want time alone."

"Yes, Your Highness," I say and go to his room before he flips me off. I want to be alone, too. 

His room is messy like before. It'll take hours but at least I'm preoccupied and getting paid. I take out my earphones and plug them in my phone's headphone jack.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit" from the  _ Heathers: The Musical _ album sounds out and gets me in the mood.

I start with picking all the visible trash and throwing them inside a stretchy, white bag. Make that three bags. I avoid touching other items but it seems to me that they must be placed elsewhere for me to wipe everything down. 

With gloves that I got from underneath the kitchen sink, I leave the nightstands spotless. I am moving a bench when I see a wrinkled photograph. I pick it up and it's a family picture. 

Cardan is younger here. Maybe ten or eleven. He's dressed in a large pirate shirt and ripped jeans. His black hair is tousled as if he never brushed it.

His five other siblings look more like their father with their yellow hair. I understand that they're his half-siblings. All from different mothers. Strange that Eldred Greenbriar married five times. And he's about to be divorced for the fifth time, too. According to rumors, that is. 

I take off my earphones and hear Cardan on the phone with somebody. 

"I will not return no matter how much you beg," he says defiantly. "Tell him then. Don't gloss over the actual details of our relationship. Of what you've done." He stays silent for a few seconds. His voice comes out raspy this time. "Like it makes any difference to me whether they love me or not. I rather that they show that they hate me than pretend that they love me. This involves you, too."

I open his door and peek at him from down the hall. He's no longer on the phone. His hands are trembling as he struggles to light a match, a cigarette in his mouth. I come out and snatch the cigarette before he draws it to his lips. He looks up at me, his eyes wide with shock. 

"You will not."

"How long have you been standing there?" he asks, his lips parted in disbelief. 

"Just now," I say. 

He frowns. "Give me that. It's my only one."

"Good thing you brought that to my attention." I crush it with my hand and let it fall to the floor. "I told you that you need to quit."

"You can't demand that of me. Didn’t I tell you?” He shoulders me aside and gathers his shoes and puts them on. “I’m leaving for more. Are you done with my room?”

“Do you expect me to do your laundry?”

“Yes,” he replies brusquely. “I am paying you, after all.” He stands and stomps into his shoes. He retrieves his keys from a bowl and puts on his sunglasses. It doesn’t disguise him well. Anyone who saw his height and the darkness of his curls and brows would know who he is. If I saw him in the streets, I would think him a model.

He leaves the apartment, and I look over at his painting. The silvery butterfly wings are filled with soft blue, the roseate sky in the background bumpy. It’s like I can touch the clouds. Back in his room, I do my finishing touches before collecting his clothes on the floor into a laundry basket. 

It’s heavy as I haul it behind me, out the door and down the hall. Fortunately, the elevator is working and it takes less than a minute to go to the laundry room. It’s down the hall from the lobby and occupies six washers of two types and six dryers. Separating the whites and colors, I go ahead and pay it with my card. I wash my hands in the sink and come out with a light sweat. 

Voices stream from the lobby. That of an elderly woman and Cardan. But it can’t be. His voice is quiet and soft, like a feather from an angel's wing. I stop in the darkness of the hall and gasp.

A sweet smile is planted on Cardan’s face as he helps the elderly woman with her groceries. She’s small in comparison to him. She tells him the most typical of statements.

“You remind me of my grandson. He lives near Disneyland with his family now.”

Cardan nods. “I’m sure it’s exciting for his children to witness the fireworks every night.”

She laughs. “My daughter-in-law hates the noise. But I can’t hear them!”

Now Cardan laughs, the sound ringing like bells, and both of them step inside the elevator. An impossible sight for me. He is not known for his kindness or generosity. From what I’ve seen he is the exact opposite. Impulsive, rude, vain, and entitled. But I saw another side of him. 

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he is not such a dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned! Next chapter gets a little interesting ;) Will decisions change? We'll see! 
> 
> Share some love please <3


	8. Regency Horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature content involving alcohol and intimacy. It is not explicit. I don't think I'll ever go explicit but know that from here on out, there will be more mature content involving intimacy, drugs, and alcohol.

I am wrong.

And sadly mistaken.

The Selkies music video shooting site resides at Lake Balboa Park, one of the most beautiful parks in Los Angeles county. In the spring, cherry blossom trees outline the lake, coloring the water pink. This autumn the trees are green. As we arrive, it seems like we skipped winter altogether.

The shooting area is decked out in faux cherry blossoms, wisteria leaves, white roses, and all the beautiful, colorful flowers I can't remember the name to.

Ducks swim in the water, paying no mind to the frenzy of crew members and makeup and dress stylists running around on set. Some extras stand under a tent dressed in empire dresses of the Regency era. Their hair twirled and refined. The girls fan themselves and their ringlets sway gently. The boys stand next to them, dressed in shirts made of chiffon, vests, and breeches and pants. Their make-up is all exaggerated.

"Cardan, you're here!" The artist, Selkies, runs toward us dressed in similar garb but her dark hair is let down. So unlike how the girls in the Regency era had it.

Cardan nods. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting, Miranda."

_ Miranda _ shakes her head. "You didn't. We lost our main actress. We're going nuts trying to figure out a replacement. I need the extras. Every single one of them. I'm losing my mind here, Cardan."

"How unfortunate." 

I look over at everyone else. How many days they are allowed here, I don't know but I know time is of the essence. 

Miranda sighs and finally lays her eyes on me. That is when she gasps and Cardan flinches.

"You."

I point to myself. "Me?"

Miranda's brown skin is freckled, her nose pointed and her lips shapely. Her eyes grow with approval as she sizes me up.

"I think you'll be a great replacement. Who are you? Cardan's friend?"

"H-His assistant," I stammer. "Jude Duarte."

"You can't be serious, Miranda." Cardan clasps her forearm. Her attention returns to him. "She has no experience and I don't want her to spoil your filming process."

I frown at him. "What makes you think I'll  _ spoil _ the filming process? I follow directions well."

"Then it's settled!" Miranda rejoices. We gawk at her. "Jude, we'll fix you up there. You and the actress have almost the same size. Thank you so much."

"I will make you proud!" I start for the dressing tent when Cardan tugs my arm back, sending me crashing into his chest.

He growls into my ear. "Don't ruin this for me. You know how important it is for my future." He releases me with a push.

I lift my chin at him. "I know. You don't need to remind me,  _ Your Highness _ ."

His eyes flash with irritation at the nickname. And I like it. But as I am walking to the dressing tent, my heart is thumping in my ears. The ghost of his touch lingering on my arm and the chills his minty breath sent down my spine continuing its attack.

❁❁❁

I have traveled back in time. Unlike the other girls, my hair is let down in loose curls and festooned with daisies. While the other dresses are made of fine silk and created with bright colors, mine is a pale blue dress made of cotton. 

My breasts are pushed up with the help of a corset. My cheeks blush. I feel exposed, knowing that most eyes will look there. The makeup artist decided on a "natural look" but darkened my eyebrows and tinted my lips and cheeks in soft pink.

Miranda is ready when I come out. She's the only one in white, her hair braided around a tiara. She looks like a princess. And Cardan next to her like a prince. His black double-waisted vest is closed around his body, his gray pants hiding under Hessian boots. A cravat is tucked near his throat. The only things that stayed the same are his curls and the dangerous look in his eyes.

"Beautiful!" Miranda extols. "You're perfect!"

"Thank you. They did a great job."

"Awesome!"

"Miranda!" Someone shouts her name. The director it seems. We assemble around him where he gives us a general idea. I have got to say, it is a bit awkward for me. And I think Cardan knows it, too. We play forbidden lovers who are the only ones genuine out of the pool of decoys. He comes from them and she is helping him to flee from them.

The camera crew gathers around the first site with the extras at a beautiful platform afloat the lake. The sun has passed its solar peak. The rays shining down on the dancing extras. 

Miranda stands in the center of the platform decorated with flower petals and charming wisteria. The music starts through the speakers and it hits me that I have heard this song before.

While Cardan prepares for his appearance, I reminisce about the moment I bought my first calligraphy set. In my room, I practiced my style while a romantic song plays in the background. Miranda's voice is strong, carrying pain and power simultaneously. The beats coming in at the right places, my heart sinking to its slow rhythm and instruments. I thought to myself how in love she probably was when she sang this.

Seeing her in her element, surrounded by colorful Regency clothes and wondrous blooms, I am dazed. The director films more scenes and close-ups before finally filming me. I am walking down the path, running across the makeshift floral setting, and twirling around until I go dizzy.

The sun starts to descend, the colors of the sky muted with pastels, and the director calls for a break. I pull out my phone and see missed phone calls and messages.

I click on Taryn's name and bring it to my ear. She picks up immediately.

"Jude! Where are you? I've been calling but you never picked up. Vivi tried you, too."

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm running late again. My boss," I look over at Cardan who converses with the director. I frown. "He wants us to complete a project overnight. But I'll update you."

"You're not coming home tonight?"

"I don't think so. But I'll notify nonetheless."

We hung up. Lunch is brought up and I rush to the banquet. Cardan sits next to me at the table.

"You're not cold?" He eyes my bare arms and I could've sworn they lingered on my chest.

"A little but it's supposed to be warmer today."

"That's a relief. I didn't feel like giving up my coat. I spoke to the director and he said we may have to film until morning. They have a trailer for me."

I look at him and raise a brow. "What? You're inviting me?"

He makes a disgusted face. "Of course not. You'll be going home." He picks himself up and leaves me alone, confused by his attitude.

_ What's with him? I thought he was becoming warm. I guess it was only a one-time occurrence. _

Break time is over. Filming resumes with more of the extras and Miranda. Someone gives me a warm coat as I wait for my turn. 

The more I watch Cardan, the more that I realize that he is a gifted actor. He plays the conflicted hero well, his expression sorrowful and…

"Beautiful," I say aloud.

The scene ends when two producers come for me.

"Look as demure as possible." "You want him as much as he wants you."

But oh I do not. My coat is shrugged off my shoulders and I'm led to a tree draped with flowers. Cardan waits there getting his makeup retouched. Stylists surround me and work on my face and hair.

The director meets me. "Jude, right? This is your first time acting?"

"Yes," I say as my lips are retouched. 

"You were excellent earlier but I hope you're comfortable with showing emotion on your face and performing with your body."

I raise a brow. "Performing?"

He nods. "Yes." And he explains my scenes and I am scared yet excited. The director does the best he can as he directs me to lean against the tree, lets Cardan's arm wrap around my waist while his free hand slides up my neck.

Shivers run wild across my body. The cameras, the crew, all of them go silent. Cardan and I gaze each into each other's eyes. We hold that position for a couple of seconds but they feel like hours to me. My heartbeat thumps, I'm afraid he can feel it as he is pressed against the soft of me.

But the feeling of him doesn't compare to the next scene. I lie on a chaise lounge with him on top of me, and I'm tugging his cravat from his neck, revealing it.

Cardan feels cold to the touch beneath my fingers.  _ Here it comes.  _ I try to hide my gasp as his mouth nears my throat, sending slow kisses up along my jaw. I tilt my head back. I almost forget to reach for him is it not for his hand leading my own to his chest.

I know it isn't real. The looks, the touches, the kisses but I've never been indulged like this. My mind goes blank. My different emotions collide and confuse me. I shift against him, breaking from the script, and touch his hand on my cheek.

The director doesn't instruct us to stop. Instead, the camera focuses on our faces. On our lovestruck expressions. Then he calls, "Cut!" and it's over. He hops off me, the affectionate expression wiped off his face. It isn't real. I know but my heart is racing and I can't catch my breath.

❁❁❁

Filming ends around dawn. We're all tired, redoing scenes and listening to the same song so many times. But now we're allowed to go home. And I do and spend early Friday sleeping in my clothes and styled hair tangled with daisies in my bed. 

When I wake, it's the afternoon and someone is knocking on my door. 

"Yes?" I ask groggily.

"It's Taryn."

I blink, looking around my bed and catching my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a gorgeous mess. Memories of Cardan kissing my neck rushes back to me strong. I lift my fingers to my neck and trace where his mouth was. What a dream that was.

"I'm coming in," she says.

"No!" I jump out of bed and hold the doorknob. "No, let me get ready."

She scoffs. "Jude, I'm your twin sister. I know how you look rolling out of your bed. I'm coming in."

"No!" 

Another voice joins. Vivi. "Jude! Come on, Halloween is tomorrow!"

The door opens despite my fight, and they gasp at my hair. 

"Did you go to work today?" Taryn asks.

"Your hair looks nice," Vivi says, smiling at me. "You're planning on being a fairy?"

I shake my head. "No, I—"

"What time did you arrive?" Taryn raises a brow. "You worked late."

"Umm, a few hours ago. Maybe four in the morning."

" _ Four in the morning?! _ " Both of their jaws fall.

I nod. 

"How did you get home?" Vivi asks. "Please don't tell me you took the bus."

"I took an Uber. Don't worry. I'm here now." 

"Well, I'm glad! Anyway, we're going to pick up costumes." Vivi nudges Taryn's shoulder with a sneaky smile. "There's a Halloween party in the city. Taryn got us tickets."

"A party?" I'm distinctively reminded of Locke's invitation. A  _ massive  _ party, he described. Could it be the same one? "Actually, I already bought my costumes. You guys go on without me. I'm still a bit tired."

"All right, rest up Jude. We'll see you later. Also, show us your costumes when we get back."

Vivi and Taryn wave goodbye and leave me alone. I sit on my bed, sighing, and wondering how I'm going to hide my sisters from Locke, who will be there with Cardan. How can I go on like nothing happened? Albeit it was all for a music video. 

I can't shake the feeling sparking inside of me. Another memory replays.

> _ "You surprised me earlier," he said, crossing his arms in front of me. Under the moonlight, he looks like he stepped out of a haunting forest and is in search of a pretty maiden.  _
> 
> _ "Really? Why? I thought I would  _ spoil  _ the filming process." _
> 
> _ A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Our cozy scene. You played the part well." _
> 
> _ My heart raced. "I could say the same for you." _
> 
> _ He stepped forward, towering over me. I was nearly breathless. "I almost believed in that loving expression of yours. Especially all your reactions." _

Am I really that obvious of my inexperience? It makes me uneasy to know that I reacted so realistically to Cardan. But what makes me even more uncomfortable is the way I feel when I think of him. 

Fuzzy butterflies in my belly. A forbidden attachment to a man I hated at first sight. But now I'm not so sure.

❁❁❁

Oak can't practically wait to go trick or treating. Despite Oriana's advice to stop jumping as she fixes his ketchup costume, Oak bounces with excitement. 

Vivi and Taryn are preparing for the party while Oriana, Oak, and I start to go outside. The sun is barely setting on this Halloween evening. 

Our neighborhood is swamped with young children and their parents going door to door for candy. Some point to us and laugh. As French fry and a packet of ketchup, Oak and I make a team. 

While Oak goes for the first door with other children, Oriana clears her throat.

"You know, you didn't have to come trick or treating this year. I'm watching over Oak now. You could've joined your sisters."

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't mind, Mother. The expression on Oak's face when he realized Vivi then Taryn stopped wanting to come sucked. I couldn't do that to him."

Oak lifts his bag to the zombie at the door.

"You're such a good sister," she comments. "I noticed a pumpkin on his window." I look at her guiltily. She smiles, however. "You love your brother."

"With all my heart." We redirect our attention back to him. He's looking inside his bag. "We're all grown up but I want him to still have a childhood as we had. It's not fair that just because we're grown we won't let Oak enjoy these events."

"The same goes for you, Jude." I look at her. "You're going to the party with your sisters?"

"After Oak falls asleep."

"You're the youngest of my daughters. Please be safe. So many men might take advantage of you." My cheeks redden. "I don't need to worry about Vivienne or your twin Taryn."

Right. Taryn had boyfriends. As shy as she was, the boys in our grade preferred her demureness over my indifference. 

"You can trust me." But do I trust myself?

Oak visits door to door in our neighborhood before we return home. All that walking and eating chocolates made him tired. 

I switch into my other costume. A killer bride. I let my hair down, apply red makeup, and highlight my collarbones. 

I text Locke.

> 20:30 -  _ I'm heading to the party. I'll see you there. _

Vivi will be with Heather while Taryn will be with some of her coworkers. Her new friends. I will join Locke and no one will know. It'll be crowded over there. 

My phone dings and I pick it up. 

> 20:35 - _ I await your presence. _

I step out in a short veil and a high-low dress, the front rising above my knees and revealing a wedding garter around my thigh. Taryn covers her mouth while Vivi hypes me up. I laugh.

Taryn is a shiny mermaid, her "tail" a long maxi skirt with shiny sequined scales. Vivi is a superhero, her long black boots meeting her knees. Her silky red jumpsuit fitted to her body.

"Let's go!" I cheer.

Because we know we're going to drink, we call an Uber. The amiable driver lets us blare our music as we head to a hotel, deemed haunted, in Hollywood. With our invitations, we get priority. No lines for us.

Hordes of people in suggestive costumes gather around the lobby. We hold each other's hand as we delve in deeper downstairs to the ballroom where the actual party is.

Top music hits blare, shaking the room with its tempo. Vivi sees Heather and before she goes, I tell her, "Vivi, I'm meeting that guy I told you about. The one I went on a date with. Don't worry about me!"

Vivi shouts over the music. "As long as you're with somebody you trust!"

She runs to Heather and the two join their group. Taryn leans in.

"I'm waiting for my friends!"

"That's okay," I say. "I'm meeting a friend around here. You don't mind if I leave you?"

She shakes her head. "Really? Then don't keep them waiting. Keep your phone with you at all times. Be safe!"

I nod and wave goodbye. Unexplainable fear crawls inside of me but I push it down. It's just that there are so many people here. I careen through the dancing crowd when I finally spot Locke.

But my smile drops when I see that he is standing next to Nicasia, Cardan, and Valerian. All of them are stunning. Nicasia is a ballerina from  _ Black Swan _ , Locke is a Lestat De Lioncourt, Valerian is a pirate, and Cardan is Wade Walker from  _ Cry-Baby _ .

The moment slows as they turn to me, watching me stride in their direction. The colorful lights swirling around shine on my face. Locke grins, taking in my whole appearance. Especially at the band around my thigh. His hands clench.

"Look at you," Locke says as I join their circle. "You can kill with your looks."

I laugh. "I could."

"Wait," Valerian shakes Cardan's shoulder. " _T_ _ his is your assistant?! _ "

Cardan stares at me, wrapping his arm around Nicasia's waist. "Yes, you know that already."

"Well, well, well," Valerian says and crosses his arms. "Is she managing you here, too?"

"No," I say. He looks at me with a raised brow. "Locke invited me. And it's a party. Why wouldn't I be here?"

My eyes flicker to Cardan who whispers into Nicasia's ear and she giggles. His hand lowers down to her hip. Valerian disrupts my trance with his laughter. I look back at him.

"What?"

He steps closer for me to hear him only. "Careful there. Remember what I told you. You're treading dangerous waters."

I frown. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He grins from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat. It looks creepy. "You're too plain still. He would never choose you."

Anger flares inside me. "You have said before."

Locke comes in between us, not noticing our tension. He grabs my hand. "Jude, let's dance!" Before I can answer, he's dragging me off to the dance floor. 

Servers with alcoholic beverages come along. Locke grabs two glasses for us and we gulp half of it down. I've drunk before and it doesn't take a lot to have me feeling tipsy. 

Locke twirls me around, tugging my hands with the beat.  _ Ghostbusters  _ by Ray Parker Jr. has the crowd wild. The energy invigorates me and allows me to let myself go. I finish my drink and Locke gets more from passing servers.

I'm giggling like crazy, getting a bit dizzy but the music sounds  _ so good _ . Not far from us Cardan is dancing with Nicasia. They don't look drunk. But Cardan does have on a big smile. Why does he get to smile at her like that?

Sure I've been rude to him but he was rude first! I'll go over to him right now and ask what he has against me? Why is he always mean to me?

But not until after this song. The throng goes wild as  _ Time Warp  _ plays. Everyone scrambles and dances to it. Cardan and Nicasia run off to a table while Valerian tries to flirt at the bar. 

Locke and I sing along and laugh at each other. I lose balance and fall. But I'm laughing while Locke helps me up. The song ends and Michael Jackson's  _ Thriller  _ keeps us dancing. 

I feel so alive. I've entered into another world of monsters and parties. I wonder where my sisters are and if they're dancing around here, too. Indulging in my curiosity, I turn to Cardan. And true horror startles me.

He's staring right at me. I almost miss the fact that another song plays.

" _ I am cannibal! _ " Some group next to me sings at the top of their lungs. 

Locke shifts me closer so that his back is facing where Cardan and Nicasia are. I still hold his dark gaze. Locke has a hand on my hip while the other around my waist. I have my hands on his shoulders.

The strobe lights bewilder me. I don't think I'm thinking straight or seeing right. But I know this. Cardan is still staring at me, angrily I think, and so is Nicasia who concentrates on us.

My skin is hot yet cold at the same time. I haven't yet felt the tiredness of my body. My feet still keep moving. I'm afraid I can't stop. Locke twirls me and I dance against him, our bodies touching.

When I turn back around, the first thing I see is Cardan and Nicasia kissing each other. His hand is on her neck while hers is on his wrist. Something sparks inside of me. Could it be jealousy?

All reasonable thoughts go out the window. I forget who I am. I forget what decisions I've made. Locke grinds against me, and a small gasp releases from my lips.

The kiss that Cardan traced up my neck lingers like a hot brand. That feeling… I want it again. With the strobing lights, Locke's face seems to change until all I see is Cardan. Beautiful. The word  _ handsome _ isn't enough to describe him.

To my surprise, this beautiful man leans in and kisses me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone watch Bridgerton? I wrote this chapter back when I watched it lol who doesn't love fashion? 
> 
> Send some love, please :)


	9. First Boyfriend

He's kissing me. Locke. Not Cardan. Locke. And I'm letting him. 

Never been kissed before, I let him pry my lips apart until his tongue is dancing with mine. A surprised gasp comes from me as feelings stir below. 

I don't know how he managed but the next thing I know we're in a hall and he has me pressed against a wall.  _ It's all going too fast _ . The lights barely reach us but when I open my eyes I see Cardan's face again and I pull him closer.

My hands are still on his lapels. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know if I want this but Locke seems to know more than I do.

He raises my leg against him, touching the garter on my thigh. The rush of emotions and sensations bombard me. Too warm. Too hot. My breathing comes out ragged the more he kisses my jaw and neck.

"I want you," Locke says hoarsely. " _ Now _ ."

"What?" I coo. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," He picks up my other leg until he's basically carrying me. "I want you closer."

"We already are." We are pressed together, aren't we? What is he talking about? "I think you're drunk. I think I'm drunk."

Locke smiles seductively. "Do you want me?"

I snort. "I think I do."

"Date me then."

"But Cardan—"

"He's a fool." His hands squeeze my thighs. "He made a biased decision, and it isn't fair to any of us. Especially for me. It's me and Nicasia and she chose him, and I choose you. So, what do you say?" 

I told him I wasn't interested in being in a polyamorous relationship. I wanted to feel loved only by one person. That I wanted their foremost attention on me. But being held like this, indulged like this, and hearing him say that he chooses me is a dream.

I take his face and kiss him back although I don't know if I'm doing it right. But he chuckles and twirls me around, kissing me back. I'm drunk anyway.

"Okay. I'm in."

He puts me down and I stagger against the wall. Being back on my feet feels off. Like the floor is rolling and I'm forgetting where I am and how I got here. 

"Locke!" Someone yells from across the hall. Locke turns and I look, too. It's Cardan and he's moving toward us.

And I drop down to my knees feeling sick. Locke crouches next to me, patting my back.

"Yeah? What?"

Cardan balls up his hands, staring at me. "Nicasia is tired. She wants to go home."

Locke nods. "Can you take her home then?"

Cardan shakes his head with a frown. "No. You're coming with me, too. Leave her." He juts his chin at me with a disgusted expression. "She'll ruin the car if she throws up."

"I can't leave her alone. She drank too much."

And I did. My body lurches and I'm spilling the liquid out of my mouth. I hear Cardan groan. 

"I'll see you back in the car. Without  _ her _ ."

And he takes off and I'm embarrassed. "Sorry," I say, my voice hoarse. "That was awful. You should go. I have my sisters here. Don't worry. I think I'm a bit soberer now."

He helps me up, not caring that I threw up in front of him. "Are you sure? I don't want to leave you."

"Cardan is waiting for you. Go. I'll text you when I get home."

"Promise?" He holds my hand.

I smile. "Yes."

He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it. "Until then, Jude. Happy Halloween."

"Happy Halloween."

He runs back to the party while I lean on the wall. The excitement has faded and now it is replaced with doubt. Have I made a grave mistake? Did I really want him? God, what did I do?

❁❁❁

My head hurts the next morning and I never want to get out of bed. My heart is fluttering at the memory of Locke and me. He kissed me and I kissed him back. He touched me and grabbed me. I'm shaking. Was I out of my mind?

My alarm rings again and I stand up. It's a new month and today on a fucking Sunday Cardan has a photoshoot for Skylark at Malibu beach at 9 AM. 

Why on the day after Halloween?

I text Cardan. 

> 7:25 -  _ Photoshoot today at Malibu for Skylark at 9 AM. _

He texts back a moment later while I'm brushing my teeth.

> 7:36 -  _ Okay. _

Thirty minutes pass and I'm out the door waiting for my Uber. Some of my funds are depleted already. The driver plays soft music but I want him to turn it off. I feel like a mess. I'm a little dizzy but I think I can still function.

The day is breezy and blue. It's going to be great being at the beach. 

Cardan is in his car, sleeping with his sunglasses on. But when I enter, he says, "If you weren't my assistant, I would have left and told you to meet me at the beach."

"You could've done it."

"And I should've." He lifts his head and turns to me. "I didn't feel like seeing you today."

"I bet you're disgusted by my behavior last night, right? Sorry that I threw up in front of you."

"...Yes."

The driver navigates us to Malibu beach. I've never been, only because it's too far. It should be a normal beach. Although it's supposedly "27 miles of scenic beauty."

At least an hour later passes when the driver parks as close as it can get near the set. To get to El Matador State Beach, we trek through a steep hill. We wobble carefully but eventually come to the area. 

My mouth drops. The beach is entirely made up of rocky outcrops, arches, and caves. It's practically private, giving the crew a perfect place to shoot without onlookers.

A woman with a black fedora hat waves at us. Cardan acknowledges her with a nod. While he gets acquainted with the crew for Skylark, I look around at the big arch linking the salty water and sand.

I could see why this place was chosen. A man steps in front of me.

"Hello, did you come with Cardan Greenbriar?"

I nod. "Yes, I'm his assistant."

He takes a sigh of relief. "All right, well we'll move you over there with the rest of us. We're shooting at the arch."

"Interesting." 

Someone brings me a chair near the dressing tent. The cameras are checked, the light is directed where it should be, and now we wait for Cardan to come out.

My phone dings. A text message from Locke. My heart sinks.

> 9:15 -  _ Good morning. I'm relieved to hear that you arrived yesterday. How was your morning? _

I smile and write back. 

> 9:16 -  _ I'm good, thank you. I didn't want to get up. But Cardan has his photoshoot today. _

He writes:

> 9:17 -  _ oh, yes, I've forgotten. Maybe I shouldn't have given you free drinks. How is he? _

I text:

> 9:18 -  _ Rude as always. Not a surprise. _

A gasp sweeps across the crew and I look up. Cardan looks like he stepped out of a fairytale. Like Prince Eric from  _ The Little Mermaid _ with his white shirt parted open to show his slim and toned body and black trousers. But it's his hair that I'm looking at.

He wears a dark wig that goes down to the small of his back. It's brushed and a bit wavy. I could almost believe it's his real hair. He glances at me as the photographer directs him to the arch.

I can't look away from him as he poses. His dark eyebrows and eyes complete the dark princely look. Stylists rush to him, pinning his hair back so that the breeze doesn't blow it in his face.

He's no Mr. Darcy, Mr. Rochester, or Heathcliff. He's something not from this world. A Byronic hero in a fairytale. A darling, villainous prince who might even beckon me to take his hand. With each passing second his eyes are on me, I lean toward taking his hand.

To bring me home under the sea. 

Wherever it is, as long as it's with him.  _ Hold on.  _ I look away as the photographer starts snapping photos of him.  _ Are you insane, Jude? It's only a wig!  _ Right, right. Cardan is still insensitive. And he barely tolerates me.

Another hour passes and it's 10:26 AM. The photoshoot is over. My phone dings and I look down while Cardan puts on his clothes and has his wig off.

Locke:

> 10:15 -  _ I want to see you again. We should go out on a date. _

I close my eyes. I feel like I’m standing over a cliff and I’m not sure I have the guts to look over at the chasm. But it would be nice to look over for once in my life. 

“You’re not sleeping, are you?” Cardan asks behind me. I open my eyes and flinch. He looks indifferent. “Let’s go before it gets crowded.”

Another hour passes and we’re back at Cardan’s apartment. When I get out, my heart sinks. Locke is waiting in front, sitting on the entrance stairs. Cardan stops before him.

“What are you doing out here?”

Locke glances at me and stands up. “I’m here for Jude. How was your photoshoot?”

Cardan takes off his sunglasses. “May I speak to you privately?” The two go to the side while I pretend not to pay attention. Locke shrugs his shoulders and runs a hand through his hair. Cardan steps closer until their noses are barely touching. His voice comes out angry and Locke rolls his eyes and moves around him. But Cardan yanks his arm back.

“You’re going to regret your decision.” Then he lets him go and glares at me. “Go fuck yourself, Jude.”

My mouth falls and he flips me off before retreating into the lobby. Locke turns me around, but I’m confused by the whole exchange. 

“Don’t listen to him. Ever since he moved in with me, he’s been too much to bear.”

“I’m surprised you’re barely coming to this conclusion. You said otherwise when we first met.”

“I changed my mind now.”

“Why?”

He gazes down at me. “You, Jude, are a plot twist.”

❁❁❁

November goes by in two segments. The first segment is the surprising pleasure I find myself spending time with Locke. Every Sunday, he accompanies me to The Garden cafe for open-mic. On the weekdays, right after I’m done with my work, we go to underrated restaurants. On the weekends, we spend however we want to spend it. Sometimes it’s shopping at the mall for myself, going to the movies, enjoying walks at the beach, or having fun at arcades for adults. 

The second segment is the pain in the ass of working for Cardan. Since Locke and I started dating, he’s been keeping me busy from 9 AM to 6 PM with his appointments and demands. As his shopper, he has me going back and forth, from boutique to boutique to get him his clothes and jewelry. When he does accompany me, he shoots down everything that I suggest to him.

Even on my birthday, when I thought he was being kind by giving me a drink, the drink was mixed with salt and sugar. He swore he didn’t know since we were drinking the same thing. 

But he doesn’t know who he is playing with. Every time he bought a pack of cigarettes, I threw them in the trash. Every time he got more alcohol, I hid all the cups.

It's the last week of November when Insmire Couture's fashion catalog finally arrived in the mail wrapped in a small, wrapped box. They're given to a few models, each page displaying clothes the fashion brand is expected to reveal at their show.

I take the tightly wrapped bundle upstairs to the seventh floor. Cardan is painting again but he's also smoking a blunt. The swirl of smoke seething above his head. 

I wrinkle my nose at the smell and close the door. He doesn't turn around. Vivaldi's  _ The Four Seasons _ plays quietly in the background. The familiar violin notes of  _ Spring 1 _ cause me to pause.

Whenever Cardan paints, he gets quiet and the usual frown on his face is gone. Every stroke he does with his paintbrush is intentional. There are no mistakes. Even the color palette is perfect.

He seems to notice me staring at him and he glances back at me.

"I'm sure you're not criticizing my art with your unseasoned eyes. What is it? And you’re done, get out."

"Insmire Couture sent their catalog."

At this, he stands up and wipes his painted hands with a wipe before striding over to me. He unwraps it carefully and throws the wrapper over his shoulder. 

"They took their time," he says, opening the heavy catalog. "You can go home now. I don't need your services anymore."

I nod. "I'll see you Monday then. Good night."

I pick up my tote bag and gather my belongings while Cardan sits down on the couch and focuses on each page. His phone rings and he looks over. 

"Sarah?"

I stop at the door. Cardan picks up. "You don't usually call me this late. What's wrong?" I move from the door and slowly move toward the couch. Cardan stands up.

" _ What?! _ " He whirls around until he sees me. I lift a brow. "I'll be there. I'll see you soon." He hangs up. "Drive me to the agency. Sarah received more news." He strides to his room. "Pull the car to the front. I'll get ready."

His door slams shut and I curse. I don't have a car. Locke is at his job. And Cardan's driver is off duty. I rush out of the apartment and try to conjure up a plan. 

I came here on a bike after Taryn dropped me off at Magnolia Company. She wanted to see who I was dating. I usually stay home, so when she noticed that I was leaving the house more while all dolled up, Taryn had to find out. Which led to Oriana having suspicions.

All they know is that I'm meeting company friends. But Taryn doesn't believe me. For now, only Vivi and Heather know the truth. 

The air outside is cold but I'm burning with desperation. What am I going to do? If I call an Uber, Cardan will wonder why I'm not driving? I'm not drunk. I'm not blind. I have no excuse.

I rub the tip of my missing finger with my thumb. It's better to call an Uber for now. Turning on my phone, I order an Uber X, the black car option. Five minutes. 

Cardan comes out, dressed in a black turtleneck and black leather pants.  _ God, he looks so good.  _ He runs a hand through his curly hair. 

"Where's your car?"

I blush. "I—It's getting repaired at the moment. The Uber will get here in three minutes."

He frowns and descends upon me, leaning until I crack. But I don't crack. I bite my bottom lip and hold my breath. 

"Hmph." He leans back, seemingly deciding I'm telling the truth. "I'm surprised you're able to afford a repair so soon."

I shrug my shoulders. "Are you expecting a thank you?"

He scoffs. "No, that's not how it goes. You shouldn't thank someone for doing something they're supposed to do. What kind of car do you drive?"

_ Oops _ . "Uh, a Fiat."

He raises a brow. "Really? And already it needs repair? You must be truly a shitty driver. The Uber is here."

A black Audi arrives. Before we hop in, Cardan stops me, holding my shoulder back. I turn around and my heart is in my throat.

"I will overlook this mishap because I have no choice but, next time, don't order an Uber. My location can be compromised. For the moment, no one knows where I'm staying. If people knew where I'm living, it'll be the end of me. Do you understand?"

I nod. "Of course. Why would I do that on purpose?"

"You'll be surprised."

We hop in and Cardan tries not to make eye contact with the driver. Thankfully, the driver is an elderly man. I'm sure he's not interested in ruining a stranger's life. 

But my life is at risk. I have to learn how to drive. I can't afford to slip. Images of glass flying around replay behind my eyes. How am I going to do this without panicking?

Cardan notices my blank expression. "Be attentive," he hisses. "You can't be sleeping already."

I shake my head. "I wasn't. I was wondering what Ms. Driver said to you."

"You know you could've asked," he says, rolling his eyes. He rests his elbow on the window and tilts his head so that he's holding his face. The dangling earring he has on sparkles under the moonlight. 

If I had a camera, I would immediately start snapping photos of him. 

"Sarah received two offers from two high fashion brands. They want me for their respective shows."

Both my eyebrows raise and my mouth makes an O. "Are you going to accept them?"

"I'm shocked that you even had to ask. Yes, I'm going to accept!" He sighs, clearly frustrated with me. "That's why we're going to the agency. We're going to revise and discuss my schedule before the long Thanksgiving weekend."

I nod. "You truly love this, huh? The fashion shows, the photoshoots, the music video filming. You're almost coming to 60 jobs this year."

He averts his eyes to the speeding cars and the tall, bright buildings of Downtown Los Angeles. I can still see his expression reflected in the window.

"Do I look like I love it?"

"Yes. You breathe in it."

"Hmm, then I do. I was born to be on this. A model with a dashing face and nothing else."

The traffic at night is a hit or miss. It's sometimes jammed during the night. And considering tomorrow is Thanksgiving, it's even more so. It's about an hour later when we arrive at the agency.

My charge comes in a whopping $60. Inside, Ms. Driver welcomes us and leads us into her office. We sit down around a table with three other colleagues. 

"Congratulations, Cardan," Ms. Driver begins. "Aristocrate and Cadeau both want you at their shows at the Paris Fashion Week. It does not interfere with your other showing for Insmire Couture."

"Let's not waste any more time," Cardan says. "I accept both offers. Tell them that I'll be honored to work with them. I  _ will  _ become the World's Model and there's nothing in my way now."

There's no question about it. Cardan  _ does _ love this glamorous life of beauty and fashion. But that miserable expression on his face when I asked him if he loved this life suggested otherwise.

❁❁❁

When I return home, Oriana is waiting in the living room, reading a book.

"Jude. You've come at last."

"Is there something wrong?" I ask, putting down my tote bag on the couch.

Oriana stands up, wrapping her silk robe closer. "You're late again."

"Busy day at work."

"You've been acting strange," she says. "I know I shouldn't pry in your adult life but you are my youngest daughter. I know that you have a boyfriend."

My heart drops but I pretend not to show my surprise. "How would you know that?"

Oriana sighs and moves over to me. "So, you do." She sighs heavily and she sits me down. "I should've known. Oak has noticed your absence and I've noticed a difference in your face. Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. I didn't … We're just dating."

"Who is he? Is a good man?"

"Someone I work with. And yes, he's been really nice to me."

Oriana sighs again. "That's what I was afraid of."

I tilt my head. "What do you mean?"

"There's nothing wrong with immediate attraction," Oriana says. "But I know how most men are. They would charm you until they get what they want."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You're meeting with him tomorrow, aren't you? You mean  _ him _ when you said you were going to spend Thanksgiving night with your friends, yes?"

I blush. "Yes." Locke invited me to his family's cabin where we can spend time  _ alone _ . The apartment is crowded, with Cardan and Nicasia spending time together. Also, Valerian has started to join their group. And I don't think I like him much. 

She gathers my hands in hers. "Please be safe, Jude. Taryn knows and Vivienne knows. You never had any experience. I know it's embarrassing but please use protection. I'm sure you can imagine your father's fury if you get pregnant now."

"That's not a concern. I don't plan on doing anything like  _ that _ ."

Oriana presses her lips. "You'll never know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! I decided to update every two weeks from now on because I'm currently busy with my other commitments. Remember to please share the love :)


End file.
